


Twist of Fate - A Diary of a Detective Turned Journalist

by ivy475



Category: Bill Moseley - Fandom, Bill Moseley RPF
Genre: Angst, Bill Moseley RPF - Freeform, Detective, Erotica, F/M, Fate, Journalism, LAPD, LAPD Vice, Light BDSM, RPF, Romance, Smut, Smut Fic, Violence, alternative universe, erotic romance, horror convention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-07-27 16:08:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 40,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20048821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivy475/pseuds/ivy475
Summary: Samara Jasper is an LAPD Vice detective turned Journalist who works for a horror fictional magazine. She attends a horror convention for interviews and as a fan and ends up having to do something that creates the ultimate twist of fate.***RPF about Bill Moseley in an alternative universe where he's going through the divorce process. Not even sure who's gonna read this, but fuck it. Here it is anyway. This fic was stemmed from broken, out of order dreams I've been having which I'm piecing together. Everything contained within this fic about the past women in Bill Moseley's life is completely fictional. I actually like his wife. I think they're perfect together.***Special thanks to @celticheart72Without her help, this story would have never been written.





	1. Chapter 1

I had been on personal leave from the Los Angeles Police Department for approximately a year. However, just because I wasn't working as a cop, that didn't mean I went anywhere without my badge and gun. I was a vice detective and felt naked without those items on my person; sort of like something was missing or I was forgetting something. They were a part of me.

After going on leave from the LAPD, I had started working for the horror fictional magazine _Gore and Cadavers_. I had attended college for Journalism but ended up going into the police force when I couldn't find a decent job. Now, Journalism was my backup job. Although I was getting full pay and benefits from the LAPD, I hated sitting on my ass all day.

Even today at the _Days of the Dead_ horror convention I was attending, my Glock 19 was nestled in the shoulder holster hidden under the black and gray flannel I was wearing, and my badge was on a silver chain tucked inside my "Otis Driftwood for President" t-shirt. I wasn't at the con as a cop; I was there as a Journalist and a fangirl.

Horror cons were a jackpot for interviews with horror icons. I had done my fair share of great interviews in the past few months and written some awesome articles. Sid Haig, Kane Hodder, and Robert Englund were among some of the people I had interviewed. I had something set up for later in the evening with Brad Dourif.

I had arrived at the con as soon as the doors opened and wandered aimlessly for hours, checking out vendor booths and cosplayer costumes. I bought a few small things from the vendors and took tons of pictures of cosplayers with my phone. One of the best costumes I witnessed was of Tiny Firefly from _House of 1,000 Corpses _and_ The Devil's Rejects_. Turned out the cosplayer was a huge Matthew McGrory fan and the costume was their tribute to him. I was impressed with how realistic it looked. I took sitting breaks whenever I needed to. While doing so, I observed the mingling crowd and the different horror celebrities at whatever tables I was close to.

Today, my main focus was Bill Moseley. The only problem was, every time I tried to get close to him, he left his table or had something to do. Earlier in the day, he had gone to lunch. After that, he had done a panel with Sid Haig, which I had recorded. I hadn't asked any questions because I already knew all the answers. I was a huge fan of both of them and had done a lot of research over the years. I was just glad it wasn't Sunday or Bill and Sid would be busy with photo-ops. They often did those as a team and dressed as the characters of Otis Driftwood and Captain Spaulding. Fans paid a pretty penny to have their picture taken with the dynamic duo.

As I surveyed a fan who was acting strangely from my spot on a bench, a familiar male voice broke through my thoughts.

"Samara Jasper, is that you?"

I whipped my head to the right and glanced up into the kind brown eyes of Sid Haig. "Hey! Yeah, it's me. How's it goin'?"

I smiled as he sat next to me. He grinned back and laid his hand over mine. I appreciated his easygoing nature. He was one of those people you could kick back with and talk to about anything.

"It's going good. How are you? Are you here as a journalist or a fan?"

"I'm good. I'm here as both." I patted my messenger bag.

"I thought I spotted you in the audience at the panel, but I wasn't a hundred percent sure," Sid said. "I'm old and my eyes aren't so good anymore."

I nodded. "Yeah, I recorded it. You and Bill always do awesome panels."

"Glad you enjoyed it. Are you gonna use the recording for an article?"

"Oh, no. That was fer my own personal enjoyment," I claimed.

"You've never met Bill, have you?" Sid asked.

"No. I'm hopin' ta take care o' that today," I admitted.

"Ask him for an interview," he suggested. "He'll give you one. Bill's a nice guy and a close friend of mine."

"I actually planned on it."

"Good. How's your leg? Last time I saw you, it was still healing."

"It's pretty good. I did some physical therapy, which made it a lot better. I still have some pain and do the therapy, just not as often."

"Glad to hear it. What you endured was a traumatic thing."

Someone called Sid's name and motioned for him to follow them.

"I gotta go," he said, his tone regretful. "Duty calls."

"Okay, no problem."

"Come to my table later. I'll give you a freebie."

I shook my head. "You ain't gotta do that, Sid."

"Oh, hogwash. You're a cool chick and I wanna give you something special. Just come," he insisted.

I smiled. "Okay, you win."

"Great." He chuckled and squeezed my hand. "See you later."

"Definitely."

As he stood and sauntered away, I yelled his name. Sid looked over his shoulder, his eyebrow raised.

"Thanks!" I blew him a kiss.

He pretended to catch it and pressed his hand to his cheek. Giving me a thumbs up, he grinned and disappeared into the crowd. I couldn't help but giggle. In my book, Sid was cool people.

I loved him to death, but I had a huge thing for Bill. My fangirl crush had started innocently enough. I saw _House of 1,000 Corpses_ in the theater in 2003 and immediately fell in love with the sadistic character of Otis Driftwood. His dark mind fascinated me, and he was handsome to boot. His albino look was eccentric and he oozed natural sex appeal.

Once I saw the sequel, _The Devil's Rejects_, in 2005, Otis wrapped me around his devilish little finger for good. The director, Rob Zombie, who I was also a huge fan of, dropped Otis's albinism and morphed him into a gray-haired, full-bearded, blue-eyed sex God. Not that albino Otis wasn't scrumptious; he was, but the newly improved Otis was even more delicious. He was sex on legs.

After those movies, I read and watched a ton of interviews about Bill and became interested in him as a human being. I loved his smile, his crooked front tooth, his musical laugh, and the shine in his gorgeous blue eyes. With him, what you saw was what you got. He was real and honest and answered questions with detailed answers. He respected women, cared about humans as a whole and the environment, loved his fans, and was a family man. I learned as much about him as possible.

Bill's acting was superb, so I watched as many of his movies as I could. I acquired all his films, the ones I could find anyway, and collected merchandise from those fandoms. I found music projects he had done and bought the albums. I also began reading and writing fan fiction about Otis Driftwood. In my fics, Otis never died. He acquired a female partner who was perfect for him. I was so hooked on Otis, it was disgusting. In my head, I was married to a fictional character.

As the years progressed, all of my friends grew tired of hearing about Bill Moseley and how awesome he was. They joked I needed psychological help. They didn't comprehend my extreme level of fangirling, especially when it came to a rapist necrophiliac serial killer like Otis, but I eventually found blogs and websites filled with people who understood that my life outside of work was devoted to him and Bill. Thank goodness for the internet and the horror community. I was no longer alone and had friends I could fangirl with any time I wished.

What stopped me from approaching Bill's table now was an eerie feeling I was getting from another fan who had shoulder-length, dirty blonde hair. I had been spying on her when Sid had approached me. Her back was always turned toward me so I never saw her face, but she had been stalking Bill for hours. Her energy felt off, chaotic and menacing. Her mannerisms were sketchy. I knew in my gut that something wasn't right. In fact, my detective training warned me she had something devious planned.

However, I couldn't prove anything, so I blended in with the crowd and shadowed the obsessed freak like the sneaky detective I was. I had done plenty of undercover work, so this was a breeze. I just had to wait until she proceeded with whatever agenda she had before I could spring into action.

Fan after fan went up to Bill's table. He talked to them in a friendly manner, signed whatever they wanted, hugged people, and took selfies. He seemed merry and comfortable, but I was aware his laid back mood would change once that psycho made an advance.

I followed her through the crowd as she switched positions so she could see Bill better. She watched every single move he made like a hawk. She disgusted me. I was a fangirl, but I wasn't out of touch with reality. As much as I crushed on Bill, I was fully aware I could never have him, and I would certainly never try to hurt him in any way. I was content with admiring him from my computer and through films and interviews.

After some time, the crowd by Bill's table began to thin out. I hovered around and within groups so I could keep a trained eye on the lunatic as she relocated. The last person in Bill's line met him, received his autograph, and retreated. Bill stepped around his table and headed for a private, closed off area which was meant only for celebrities who had tables at the con. My bet was he was hungry; it was suppertime.

Security guards patrolled the doors where Bill was en route to, but they were distracted by some kids who were clowning around. As Bill entered the area forbidden to the public, his demented fan slipped in right behind him. He had no idea she was on his heels and ready to pounce as soon as the opportunity presented itself.

Adrenaline pulsed through my veins, my heart pounded, and I broke into a sweat. My breathing became uneasy and my palms turned clammy. Every alarm and red flag in my head screamed for me to stop her.

I scrambled up to the prohibited area just as a security guard moved in front of the entrance and blocked my view. A frantic _'FUCK!'_ echoed through my head. I needed to pass by the guard before something dreadful happened to Bill.


	2. Chapter 2

"Ma'am, you can't go back there. That area is off limits," the security guard said in a no-nonsense tone.

Releasing an annoyed huff, I peered over his shoulder at the retreating figures of Bill Moseley and whoever that shady bitch was.

"No shit!" I snarled. "You just let a psycho fan sneak by and follow Bill Moseley back there!" I yanked my police badge out from under my shirt. "Detective Samara Jasper, LAPD Vice. Call security, call the cops, call my boss, call the fucking SWAT team fer all I care! Just move the fuck outta my way b'fore I lose 'em and she hurts Bill Moseley!"

"Yes, Detective," the guard said, eyeing my badge. "Go on back. I'll call for help."

"You do that," I hissed.

The guard reached for his walkie talkie and spoke to other security team members and the LAPD officers working the con. I left my badge on the outside of my shirt so whoever saw me would know I was a cop and shoved past him. Unbuttoning my flannel, I ripped my Glock 19 from my hidden shoulder strap, flipped off the safety, and cocked the hammer. I crept down the hallway, peeking into room after room until Bill's familiar voice filled my ears from around the next corner.

"Hey! What the fuck?! Who the hell are you?! How did you get back here?!" he demanded to know.

"My name's Liz. I'm your #1 fan," the girl said sweetly.

"Fans aren't allowed back here!" Bill objected. "This is a private area! You're crossing the line!"

"None of that matters. I want what I want, and you're gonna give it to me."

"Oooo-kay. You've got a knife," he said calmly. "What is it you want?"

_'How the fuck did she get a knife in ta the con?' _I thought.

"Your dick," she snarled. "Undo your pants."

"Fuck," Bill breathed. "Seriously?"

"Yeah."

I followed their voices until I reached the correct room. Sneaking up to the door they were behind, which was closed but not latched, I peeped through the crack. Liz was straddling Bill's lap, who had his hands in the air. Her knife was pressed against his throat. Although his eyes were filled with terror, he remained calm on the outside.

I silently inched the door open with my foot, alerting Bill to my presence. His eyes flickered to the gun in my hands, then to my badge.

Bill played along with Liz. "Alright, take it easy. Lemme just..." Reaching for his pants, he unbuttoned them.

"That's a good boy," she approved.

Setting my journalism bag against the wall, I ghosted up behind the girl and stepped between her and the table they were seated at. Whistling softly, I gained her attention and paralleled her and Bill. She turned her head, her shamrock-colored eyes deadly and full of lust.

"Put yer hands up," I said firmly, my sights aimed at her forehead.

"Says who?"

"Detective Samara Jasper, LAPD Vice. Put yer hands up _now._"

"No!" Liz snapped. "Bill's mine!"

"The fuck he is! Put yer fuckin' hands up!" I growled. "Do it right fuckin' now b'fore I do somethin' I might regret!"

When she didn't budge, my blood boiled. Not only was she not listening, but she was threatening Bill fucking Moseley, someone I cared a great deal for.

"Put yer fuckin' hands up, or I'll put a bullet in yer fuckin' skull!" I bellowed. "I'll splatter yer Goddamn brains all over this room! If ya think I won't, yer sadly mistaken!"

Liz's eyes grew to the size of dinner plates. Intimidated, she relented. She retracted the knife from Bill's throat and lifted her hands into the air. As soon as Bill was out of danger, I snatched the knife from her, dropped it on the floor, and kicked it towards the door. Next, I yanked her off of his lap by her shirt with one hand and smashed her frontside down onto the table.

From behind me, Bill breathed a sigh of relief. "Fuck..." he mumbled.

"Ow!" Liz squealed. "You're hurting me!"

"Yer under arrest!" I informed. "Don't try anythin' stupid!"

Decocking my gun, I flipped on the safety, put it away, and reached for the handcuffs stashed in my back pocket.

"You're hurting me!" Liz repeated.

I ignored her and jerked her arm behind her back. When she tried to resist, I grabbed her hair and slammed her head against the table.

"Don't fuckin' resist arrest! It'll only make things harder fer ya in court!" I declared.

Bill sat in the chair stunned. He scooted back to give me some space while I finished cuffing the psychopath and stated her Miranda rights.

"Yer under arrest fer enterin' a convention with a concealed weapon, holdin' a man hostage with intent ta rape, and maybe intent ta murder. You have the right ta remain silent. Anythin' ya say or do can be held against you in a court o' law..."

When I was finished with her rights, I hoisted her over to the wall and made her sit down.

"Don't fuckin' move," I hissed, pointing in her face. "Ya stay right here 'til other police officers arrive."

"Oh, my God. Oh, my fucking God," Bill repeated shakily under his breath.

His chair scraped against the floor as he moved toward the table and buried his head in his arms. I was a bit overheated from all the commotion. Taking off my flannel and revealing my hidden shoulder strap with my gun, I hung it over the back of the chair next to him.

"Everythin's cool, Bill. It's over. Might wanna fasten yer pants if ya haven't already done so," I advised, running my fingers through his soft hair in a soothing manner. "Other cops and security team members will be here any second."

After fixing his jeans, he reached for my hand. Gripping it tightly, he rested our hands next to his face. I rubbed his skin with my thumb, stepped behind him, and laid my other hand on his shoulder.

"I didn't do anything wrong!" Liz shrieked. "I'm innocent!"

I laughed dryly. "Oh, ya didn't do nothin' wrong, huh? That's funny. I saw everythin'. Ya had Bill fuckin' Moseley held hostage with intent ta rape and possibly kill. Ya could've cut 'is throat at any time. I'm sure ya would've if he wouldn't've complied with yer twisted wishes. You've been stalkin' 'im all day, waitin' fer the perfect moment. All you crazy, so-called 'fans' are the same."

"Detective Jasper?" someone called from the hallway. "LAPD!"

"In here! I got the suspect! Mr. Moseley's safe!" I yelled.

Three cops and the security guard I had previously shoved passed rushed in. The officers had their guns drawn but put them away when they saw the situation was under control.

"I already read the girl her rights. She called herself Liz," I informed. "The rest is up ta y'all. I'm not at the con fer police work. I'm on personal leave from the force. I'm here as a fan and a journalist. The bag's mine." I jutted my chin towards my messenger bag against the wall. "I want my cuffs back."

"Yes, ma'am."

The cops moved forward and pulled Liz to her feet. I strolled over and uncuffed her so one of them could re-cuff her, and slipped my handcuffs back into their rightful spot in my back pocket. One of the officers started asking Bill questions. He was too upset and in too much shock to say much of anything. Instead, he sputtered nonsense.

"Just let Mr. Moseley relax fer a few minutes." I headed to his side and massaged his shoulder. "I saw everythin'. I've been watchin' that girl fer hours now. She's been actin' shifty and her energy felt off. She's been tryin' ta get ta Mr. Moseley all day. I knew she had ill intentions, but I had no proof. I had ta wait 'til she acted. She waited 'til security turned their backs ta slip back here right on Mr. Moseley's heels. I had a problem gittin' back here until I showed..." I pointed at the security guard. "...him my badge."

The guard nodded his affirmation.

"Officer Tom Smith." An officer offered his hand, which I shook firmly. "Personal leave? Why? What unit do you work for?"

"Vice," I replied, flashing my badge. "I'm actually out on medical leave. I was shot four times 'bout a year ago. I'm out on recovery."

He eyed my badge. "Detective Samara Jasper?" His eyebrows pinched together. "Wait a second. Aren't you the one who was shot in the line of duty while raiding a nightclub for drugs?"

"Yes. At the time, I was undercover."

Officer Smith nodded. "I know who you are. I remember reading and hearing about that case. It was on the news, too. You're a highly decorated detective. What you did took some major balls that most men don't have. You were in the hospital for quite some time."

I tipped my head.

"Jesus Christ," Bill muttered. "You were shot four times?"

I glanced at him. "Yeah. I'm fine. Are _you_ alright? Did that lunatic cut ya?"

He lifted his hand and felt under his gnarly beard, which was covering his throat. As he brought his hand away, there was blood on his fingers. His eyes widened. "Oh, fuck..."

"Shit. Lemme see," I demanded.

Bill scooted his chair back. He didn't object as I knelt in front of him and cupped his bushy jaw. Angling his face toward the ceiling, I moved his beard out of the way and ran my fingertip over his throat. Discovering it was just a nick, I blew out a puff of air and wiped my finger on my jeans.

"You'll be fine. It's just a scratch." I turned my head toward the security guard. "Git a medic in here ta clean this cut right fuckin' now! God knows what kinda shit was on that fuckin' knife! You should be written up fer allowin' this ta happen! It's cuz o' you and the other guards not payin' enough attention that this happened in the first place! An innocent man was almost raped and killed cuz o' yer incompetence!"

"Yes, ma'am." He didn't try to argue because he knew I was right. He got on his walkie talkie and called for a medic.

As I faced Bill, I looked right into his pretty blue eyes. He was shaking, panting, and was as white as a ghost. Mentioning the knife had thrown him into a full blown panic attack.

"Alright, Bill," I said in a soothing tone. "Yer havin' a panic attack. Ya ever had one o' those b'fore?"

"N-no," he heaved. "My chest hurts. I feel like I'm having a heart attack. I think I'm gonna pass out."

"Panic attacks can mirror heart attacks. Yer hyperventilatin', which means ya ain't gittin' enough oxygen. We gotta git yer breathin' back ta normal. Do ya know what deep breathin' is?"

He shook his head.

"Okay, we're gonna count t'gether, and yer gonna breathe with me when I tell ya to. Do ya think you can do that?"

Bill nodded.

"Gimme your hand."

He complied and I laid it on my chest. His pinky dipped into the gunshot scar under my shirt and his eyes bugged out. I delicately moved his finger aside and clasped his free hand.

"Can ya feel me breathin'?"

He bobbed his head.

"I want ya ta copy my breathin', alright?"

"O-okay."

I began to talk him through breathing exercises while the other officers questioned Liz and filled out paperwork. The security guard waited by the door for the medic.

Once Bill had regained most of his natural color, I asked if he knew what grounding was. When he shook his head, I explained. I made him list things he could see, touch, hear, feel, and taste to bring him back into the present. As I worked with him, he repeatedly glimpsed at Liz. I knew he wouldn't completely calm down until she was out of the room.

"Git that crazy bitch outta here!" I yelled. "Take her out in the hallway or in ta another room! I don't care where y'all take her! Just git her the fuck away from Bill!"

"Yes, ma'am."

The officers led the girl out of the room, who sneered at me over her shoulder. I simply winked.

"See ya in court," I said, my voice dripping with saccharine.

Bill relaxed almost immediately, but he was still freaked out. I let go of his hand and stroked his beard.

"Hey, she's gone," I said softly. "She can't hurt ya no more."

"Only because you stopped her," Bill pointed out, taking a deep breath.

"Ehh, what can I say?" I shrugged. "It's in my nature. I might be on personal leave, but it's what I do."

"Thank you," he whispered.

I squeezed his shoulder. "Anytime."

Emotions overwhelmed him. A sob shook his entire body, and tears filled his eyes and spilled down his cheeks.

"Aww, man," I mumbled, laying my hand on his thigh. "I really hate seein' Otis Driftwood cry."

Bill whimper-laughed. "You must think I'm a real pussy."

"No, yer a victim," I said matter-of-factly. "It's a normal reaction. You've just been through somethin' traumatic. After yer body comes outta shock, yer emotions go in ta overdrive. Cryin' is just yer body's way o' releasin' those emotions. It's alright. Ya just g'head and do what ya need ta do."

Resting his face in his hand, he sobbed silently. I sat in the chair on his right side and closed my arm around his waist.

"Where's that fuckin' medic?!" I shouted.

Bill flinched.

"On his way!" someone replied from outside of the door.

"I'm sorry," I murmured, rubbing his back. "I didn't mean ta startle ya."

Bill glanced at me and sniffled. A tear dripped off the end of his nose, and it broke my heart. It bothered me immensely that his gorgeous blue eyes were watery and bloodshot. Grabbing some napkins from the table next to us, I offered them to him. He accepted the napkins and squeezed them in his fist.

"Did ya come back here fer supper?" I asked, kneading his shoulder.

He nodded.

"Reckon ya've lost yer appetite, huh?"

"You could say that," he croaked. Clearing his throat, he eyeballed my black 'Otis Driftwood for President' t-shirt.

"Oh." Chuckling, I glanced down at myself. "I might be a detective and a journalist, but at the end o' the day, I'm just a fangirl."

Bill smiled and wiped his face. The medic walked in and I shut my mouth. I waited patiently while he checked Bill's throat over and disinfected it. Throughout the medic's entire routine, Bill focused on me. Occasionally, I gave him a reassuring pat on his arm or shoulder.

Eventually, one of the other cops strolled in and addressed me. "We need both of your statements."

"I'll give mine first. Let Bill git treated, then you can take his."

"Yes, ma'am," the officer responded. "Now what exactly happened? The girl said you manhandled her."

I laughed softly. "I was a little rough on her, but that was cuz she resisted arrest." I began to tell him what had happened from the beginning. 


	3. Chapter 3

Once the incident was documented, and the girl was hauled off to jail, only Bill and I remained in the room. He had returned to his normal carefree self, and I had dropped my cop persona.

"We'll get court papers in the mail in a few weeks, maybe less," I informed.

"Thank you so much, detective," he said sincerely from his spot next to me in the chair.

"Call me Samara," I said, waving my hand dismissively.

"Okay, _Samara_," Bill emphasized, smiling.

I grinned, my heart fluttering. God, it was cute when he said my name. The little lisp he had was especially prominent.

"What you did was pretty heroic," he added. "I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't done what you did. How the fuck did you figure out what was going on?"

"Really, it's no big deal. I'm a detective." I tapped my skull. "I'm trained ta pick out odd behavior and mannerisms. Plus, I'm an empath. I dunno if ya know what that is, but the first thing that tipped me off was Liz's weird energy. Empathic abilities are one o' the things that led me ta police work."

"No big deal?! It's a huge fucking deal! You saved my life!" he insisted. "And I know what an empath is. I'm quite familiar with that term."

"Nah, it really ain't a big deal. I'm trained ta talk down a criminal. It's my job." I laughed. "Although, I didn't really talk her down. I lost my shit and she backed down."

Bill chuckled. "Well, it was a dangerous situation. You didn't have to do anything. You're on personal leave. You could have ignored your gut and let shit happen, but you didn't. How can I ever repay you for this?"

I smirked. "I told ya I'm a journalist. As ya know, I'm on personal leave from the force. Journalism is my backup job. You could gimme a great interview. I've been tryin' ta approach ya all day, but every time I got close, you were busy or had somethin' ta do and left yer table. Then, I ended up tailin' that psychopath."

"An interview hardly makes up for this. Who do you work for?"

"The horror magazine, _Gore and Cadavers_."

"Oh, I know that magazine. What's your last name again?" Bill inquired.

"Jasper."

"I know _exactly_ who you are."

My eyebrows furrowed. "Ya do?"

He shrugged. "Yeah, sure. You've interviewed Sid Haig, Kane Hodder, Robert Englund, and a whole bunch of other horror icons. They're all friends of mine or people I've done films with."

I nodded. "Yeah, I have interviewed those people. I ran in ta Sid earlier out on the con floor. He wants me ta come by 'is table and see 'im."

"Then he likes you a lot if he wants that. Sid doesn't just invite people to come sit with him at his table. In fact, now that I think about it, all my friends spoke pretty highly of you. They said your interviews were professional and the articles were good."

I blushed slightly. "Thanks. That's flatterin'."

Bill grinned. "I'll do the interview. I'll do whatever you want."

The fact that he had said he would do whatever I wanted did not go unnoticed, but I didn't comment on it.

"Great! Thank you." I clasped my hands. "When're ya free?"

"Uhh, anytime really," he said thoughtfully. "I don't have another con for a couple of weeks, and my filming schedule is clear right now. I just finished filming something and don't have anything else for another month and a half."

"Reckon ya still need the beard or ya would've shaved it off, huh?" I pointed to the long, gray beard he sported. "It was fer 3 From Hell, wasn't it? The beard, I mean?"

"Oh, uhh, yeah." Bill combed his fingers through his beard and pushed his chestnut brown hair off of his forehead. "It was, but I do still need it for another project. I got a short comin' up where I play Abraham Lincoln."

"Cool. Don't worry. I'm not gonna ask ya 'bout 3 From Hell. I know ya can't tell me shit. Rob would smite ya where ya sit if ya did."

He laughed, his blue eyes lighting up. "Yeah, he would."

"How do I get ahold o' ya? Should I contact yer agent or manager or handler? What do ya have? How does that work?"

"I have the same manager as Kane Hodder, but just call me." Bill pulled his phone out of his pocket and unlocked it. "What's your number?"

My eyes widened. I couldn't believe he had just said that. "Seriously?!"

"Yeah. Why not? You're a detective. I trust you not to give out my number."

"I'm also just a fangirl who happens ta work fer a horror magazine." I gestured to my 'Otis Driftwood for President' T-shirt. "I'm no one special. Ya don't have ta gimme yer personal number."

"Oh, I disagree. You're way more than just a fangirl. What's your number?" Bill paused momentarily. "Unless you don't _want_ me to have it."

"No, God, no! Of course, you can have it!"

I recited my number, and he punched it into his phone. Within seconds, my cell signaled a new text message.

"Run, rabbit, run! Run, rabbit!" my phone screamed from my pocket.

"Hey, that's me!" Bill laughed.

My cheeks caught on fire. "Told ya I'm just a fangirl."

"That's fucking adorable." His eyes sparkled. "Do you have a boyfriend or a husband? Does he get jealous of your fangirling? Some men do." He shoved his phone back into his pocket.

"Ha, no," I said adamantly. "I'm single by choice."

His eyebrows drew together. "Single by choice? Why? You're a pretty girl and you're badass."

"Oh, fuck! Stop it!" I placed my hands over my flaming cheeks.

Bill laughed again. "Really, why are you single?"

"Well, I've sorta sworn off men. I plan ta live out the rest o' my life as a crabby single lady." I was half joking and half serious. "No, fer real, I'm married ta my job when I work the force. Any relationship I try ta have ends up goin' ta shit." I held up my index finger. "And lemme add, I _never_ date other cops." I swiped my hand through the air. "That's a bad idea. That shit never works out. I never date people I work with. That's a rule o' mine."

He smiled. "Then, I guess you wouldn't go out with me? It's the least I can do after what you did."

My eyes bugged out of my skull. "What?! No, ya don't gotta do that."

"I want to," Bill said, his tone sincere. "I like your independence and no bullshit attitude."

I acted like I was thinking about his proposition, but I was screaming on the inside. Bill Moseley wanted to take me out on a date?? Fuck yeah, I was going to go out with him!

"Well, alright. I reckon I could let ya take me out. It couldn't hurt. I know yer not an asshole." I smirked. "But I want my interview first."

He nodded. "That's fine. I get it. Business before pleasure. I used to be a journalist, too."

"I know."

Bill chuckled.

"Fangirl." I reminded him. Something suddenly occurred to me. "Woah, wait a fuckin' minute! Ain't ya married?"

Bill held up his left hand. His wedding ring was missing and there was no tan line. I don't know how I hadn't noticed when I had laid his hand on my chest to talk him through breathing exercises. I must have been too caught up in the moment.

"Not anymore," he said nonchalantly, but he was bothered more than he let on. The pain in his eyes was obvious. "My wife left me six months ago. We're separated and have started the divorce process. I've kept pretty quiet about it. In fact, I'm thinking about selling my house. It's too big for just me. Lucinda's gone, my kids are adults and have their own places..." He shrugged. "I don't need it anymore."

It took me a few seconds to process what he had said. I was completely floored. I straightened up in my chair and blinked a couple of times before blurting my thoughts.

"What?! Why?! Y'all weren't even married that long! Who the fuck in their right mind would leave you?! Lucinda's crazy!" I instantly regretted my missing filter and clapped my hand over my mouth. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't've said that. It's none o' my business. Just shows ya how much of a fangirl I truly am."

Bill's genuine smile made his eyes crinkle. "It's okay. I really don't know what happened. Shit was fine for a while. Then we just started fighting and couldn't stop. Lucinda walked out one day and never came back."

"I'm sorry," I said softly, touching his arm. "She just threw in the towel like that after all those years? That ain't fair."

"It's fine. I've accepted it," he said. "Maybe you'll eventually tell me why you've sworn off men on our date. Or was that just a joke?"

I huffed out a laugh. "I was only half jokin'. I _have_ sworn off men, but there's a reason fer it other than bein' married ta my job. Maybe I'll tell ya, maybe I won't." I smiled playfully.

"Awesome." Bill fished his phone out of his pocket. "Hey, can I get a pic with you?"

"Really? As a fangirl, ain't I the one who's s'pposed ta ask that question?"

He rolled a shoulder forward and grinned. "Yeah, well, maybe I wanna tell the world about the cute cop who saved my life. Do you have an Instagram account?"

"Oh, you are _smooth_," I accused, giggling. "But yeah, I do have Instagram."

Bill laughed. "I'm trying. Honestly, my game is a little rusty. I haven't flirted or gone on a date in probably..." He blew out a puff of air. "...20 years. Well, besides with Lucinda, but that doesn't really count. I mean, she was my wife, not someone new."

I nodded. "Gotcha. Okay, let's take the pic."

"Hey, alright," he said happily.

Bill slid his arm around my shoulders and held up his phone. I closed my arm around his waist, leaned into his side, and smiled. Damn it, he smelled good. Like deodorant and a brand of light cologne I couldn't identify. He snapped the pic and lowered his phone, but he didn't remove his arm from my shoulders.

"Lemme see it," I demanded. "I don't want a shitty pic o' me on Instagram."

"It's good," he promised, showing me the photo. "See? You're beautiful."

I blushed, but he was right. It was a good photo; not only of me but of him as well. Our smiles were authentic, and our blue eyes were bright and shiny. Despite the drama of the day, we looked overjoyed.

"What's your Instagram?" Bill asked.

I told him my username. He typed on his phone for a minute. Otis screamed from my pocket three times, making us chuckle.

"I guess once was for the follow, twice was for the tag, and the third time was the second text," he pondered.

"You followed me?"

"Yeah, why not? You're gonna interview me, and I'm gonna take you out on a date." He put his phone away.

"Yer serious about this date thing, huh?" I inquired.

"Completely," Bill insisted, his hold on me tightening.

"But I'm just a fangirl," I said for probably the tenth time since the shit had hit the fan.

"No, I told you you're much more than that. You're a cop who saved my life and a journalist who is highly spoken of by friends of mine. And you're pretty."

He kissed my temple. I was glad I was sitting down because I almost melted into my chair. Blushing fiercely, I hid my face in his shoulder.

"Oh, my God," I mumbled.

He laughed. "You're shy. That's fucking adorable."

"No, it isn't!" I squeaked. "I'm a cop! Shyness shouldn't be a part o' my personality!"

My phone started screaming and wouldn't stop. "Run, rabbit, run! Run, rabbit!"

"Fuck!"

"That's gotta be Instagram," Bill pointed out, smirking. "People are probably tagging you in their comments under that photo I posted of us."

"Yeah, prolly. Lemme just..."

I pulled my phone out of my pocket, unlocked it, and turned down the volume to silent. He caught sight of the picture of Otis on my home screen and snickered.

"See, just a fangirl." My cheeks reddened again, but I ignored my embarrassment and saved Bill's number so it wouldn't get lost.

His first text read,_ Bill Moseley. _The second text said, _You won't be a crabby single lady for long. I'm going to be your new boyfriend._

I couldn't help but laugh. "New boyfriend, huh?"

His blue eyes glittered. "I sure hope so."

"But ya don't even know me."

"I know enough to be completely enamored by you."

"Jesus," I muttered, scrubbing my hand over my rosy face. "Is this fer real? Am I on planet Earth? Is this some kinda weird dream? Am I gonna wake up and be disappointed?"

"No, this is very real," Bill assured. "I told you when I was free. Let's figure out when you're free."

"Uhh..."

I racked my brain for my schedule, but I was overwhelmed by his flirtiness and couldn't think straight. Opening my calendar on my phone, I glanced it over. I didn't object when he looked, too. I had nothing to hide.

I had lunch with a few friends peppered in, an interview with Bruce Campbell in a few days, my usual work hours, gym time, just the usual shit.

"Next weekend looks good," I suggested.

"Okay. Where do you live?" Bill wanted to know.

"Here in Los Angeles; Sun Valley, actually."

"No shit! I live like 30 minutes away from there! Why don't I come to your house Saturday afternoon, we'll do the interview, then we'll go out?" he offered.

"Well, I live in an apartment. I have a roommate, so ya might have ta put up with her. She's kinda nosy and has a big mouth," I warned. "But she's nice and a really good friend o' mine. If I'm honest, I don't need a roommate. She just hates livin' alone."

"Oh, I don't care. I deal with people like that all the time. Besides, I'm gonna have to meet her eventually if I'm gonna be your new boyfriend." Bill winked.

I snorted. "Alright. I'll text ya closer ta Saturday."

"I'll be talking to you before then," he promised.

I glanced at the time on my phone. "Oh, my God! I gotta go! I'm s'pposed ta be interviewin' Brad Dourif in like ten fuckin' minutes!"

"Brad's a friend of mine. We did _Halloween_ together." 

I shot him a look that plainly said, _Duh_.

"Right, fangirl. You already know." Bill sighed. "I should go, too. I gotta get back to my table."

"Ya sure yer alright ta do that after what happened?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks to you," he said, giving me a light squeeze.

"Layin' it on thick, ain't ya?" I teased.

"Uhh, yup. Will you come see me later?"

"Yeah, sure!" I beamed, stuffing my phone into my pocket.

"Hey, alright!"

Bill twisted toward me and embraced me. It wasn't a half-assed, one-armed hug, either. It was a bone-crushing, I-can-feel-every-muscle-in-his-lean-upper-body, hug. I didn't want to let go.

I pulled back slightly to look him in the eye, which made my insides turn warm and gooey. Fuck, he had gorgeous eyes. I could get lost in them if I wasn't careful.

"Hey, do me a favor?" I asked hopefully.

"Sure, anything you want."

"Send me that pic ya took of us? I wanna copy fer myself."

"No problem."

"Thanks. I really gotta go."

"Okay." Bill kissed my cheek, his beard brushing my skin.

"Umm, w-wow," I stammered. "I'll see ya later."

"Yeah, at my table. Don't forget."

"I could never ferget."

Bill finally let me go, his fingertips grazing my sides as he settled back into his chair. Grabbing my flannel, I slipped it on and dropped my badge inside my shirt. I buttoned my flannel to conceal my gun, pushed to my feet, crossed the room, and picked up my messenger bag from the floor. Waving, I turned my back on him and darted toward the door just as Kane Hodder was coming in.

"Hey, Samara!" Smiling, he extended his hand.

Grinning, I shook it firmly. "Hey, Kane. Sorry, I gotta go. Interview," I explained in a rush.

"Okay, good to see you again."

"Likewise," I said.

"And there she goes," Bill mumbled.

As I left the room and hurried down the hall, Kane began talking to Bill.

"I see you met Samara. She's really cool. I heard what happened. Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Samara's the one who saved my life."

"WHAT?! Get the fuck outta here! Samara's the detective??"

"Yeah. I got her phone number. I asked her out on a date. She said yes."

"Shut the fuck up! I didn't know she was a detective or single! I thought she was just some really cool horror fangirl journalist! You're a lucky bastard! That girl's hot!"

"I know." Bill laughed. "She's also young. I didn't think she would go for the date but she did."

"Samara's an old soul. Age gaps probably don't matter to her. Now that I know she's a cop, that old soul shit makes a lot more sense," Kane mused.

"How the hell did you find out what happened anyway?" Bill wanted to know.

"Overheard some cops."

Their conversation slowly faded away. It wasn't until I entered the convention floor that the reality of the situation hit me. I had Bill Moseley's fucking phone number; his real, personal cell number. He put a picture of us on Instagram and followed me. He kissed me twice. He thought I was pretty and brave. And I was getting my interview and going on a fucking date with him. He wanted to be my new boyfriend. This shit couldn't be real.

"Oh, my God," I muttered.

As my head swam, I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes. The biggest celebrity crush of my entire life, Bill fucking Moseley, was interested in me. Taking a deep breath, I slid to the floor. I had exactly one minute to get my shit together. I had an interview to do.

"Hey, are you alright?" a female asked.

Opening my eyes, I held up my hand. "I'm fine. Just fangirling."

"I thought that might be the case. You look like you just walked out of a dream."

"I think I did." I glimpsed at her shirt, which had Chop Top from _The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2_ on it. "I just met Bill Moseley."

"Oh! I met him earlier! He's fab! He's an outstandingly nice guy."

"Yeah, no shit!" I shoved a hand through my dark hair and stood up. "Well, I gotta go. I got work ta do. Thanks fer checkin' on me."

"That's what fangirls do," she said, laughing.

"Word!" I smiled. "Bye! Have a nice time!"

"See ya!"

I hoisted my bag onto my shoulder and wandered toward Brad Dourif's table in a daze. When I was almost there, I pulled my phone out of my pocket to check if Bill had sent the pic. He had indeed forwarded it. I opened the text, clicked on the pic, and stared at it.

"Jesus, he's hot," I mumbled. "I'm goin' on a date with that man. I can't fuckin' b'lieve this."

I wanted to scream like the idiot fangirl I was, but I had to keep my cool. I pushed the home button and noticed I had a Facebook friend request from Bill as well. He had probably clicked the link on my Instagram profile. There was also a Twitter follow from him.

"Oh, my God!" I screeched as I stopped in front of Brad's table.

"Are you alright, Samara?" he inquired.

"Sorry, I'm fine. Just fangirling." I chuckled.

"Who are you fangirling over?"

Sighing dreamily, I clutched my phone to my chest. "Bill motherfuckin' Moseley."

"Lemme see what the hell you're fangirling over," Brad insisted, holding out his hand. "Gimme your phone."

"No fuckin' way!" I shrieked.

Brad threw his head back and laughed. Clearing my throat, I tucked my phone in my pocket and changed the subject.

"You 'bout ready ta do this interview?"

"Yeah." His phone buzzed. He pulled it out of his pants pocket and smirked. "Now I know why you're fangirling."

"What?! How?"

"Bill just texted me. He said he posted a photo with you on Instagram, and that you were going to be his new girlfriend."

"Oh, fuck me," I breathed, my cheeks turning crimson red.

He looked at his phone as it buzzed again. "You're a cop?"

"Yeah."

"You saved his life?!" Brad exclaimed.

"Damn, word travels fast around here," I joked.

"Yeah, it does. All the horror actors talk to each other. Come back with me and let's do this interview. _And_ you can tell me what happened to Bill."

I followed Brad behind a curtain and through a doorway into what he called 'The Green Room'. As I was setting up, I recounted Bill's real life nightmare and my starring role in it. We did the interview in about 30 minutes. Afterward, I thanked him and shook his hand.

"Hey, no problem. Listen." Brad stepped closer and lowered his voice. "Bill's had a rough time. His wife left him, he's had his heart broken...he's a bit vulnerable right now. He doesn't show it, but he was _really_ hurt. I can see that you like him a lot. Take good care of him, okay?"

"I know. I will," I promised.

"Good. If you ever wanna do another interview, just call my agent."

I grinned. "I'll do that."

"Enjoy the rest of the night," Brad said.

"I will. Thanks."

Grabbing my messenger bag, I left the area with Brad right behind me. It was getting late and I was running out of time. A lot of fans were leaving. I decided to visit Sid before going to see Bill. His table was pretty much dead. As I approached him, he smiled brightly.

"Hey, Samara!" He patted a chair next to him. "I saved you a seat."

"Thanks!" I plopped down and groaned.

"You alright?" Sid asked.

"Yeah. It's been one hell of a night."

"I heard. You're a cop?"

"Everyone keeps sayin' that." I giggled. "But yes, I'm a cop."

"What you did for Bill, I can never thank you enough for that. He's alive and unharmed because of you," Sid said seriously.

"Ehh, I just did what I thought was right. I did my job."

He chuckled. "Bill said you would say that."

"Yeah, well..." Shrugging, I blushed. "What else did he say?"

"That you're interviewing him and going out on a date."

"Yeah." My cheeks heated up even more. "I'm gonna go see 'im at 'is table once I'm done here."

"That's good, real good. Bill needs someone decent in his life, some real companionship. He's been pretty miserable. You're the first woman to catch his eye since his wife left. Don't get me wrong. Lucinda's not a bad person. They just didn't work anymore, and she didn't wanna try to fix their marriage."

"That flat out sucks," I said.

"Yeah. Here." Sid pointed to some photos on his table. "Pick one and I'll sign it for you."

"Uhh..." I glanced over all the photos.

"Tell you what. Let's do this one." He slid a shot of Cutter, Otis, and Baby our way. "I know how big a fan you are of _The Devil's Rejects_. I'll sign it, you can get Bill to sign it, and one day you can get Sheri to sign it."

I nodded. "Works fer me."

"Alright." Sid autographed the picture and blew on the ink. "Take it and go see Bill. There's a private after party down at the Four Seasons hotel. You should come. Me, Bill, and a bunch of others will be there. Come on and have some fun with us."

"Really? I don't wanna intrude."

"Oh, hogwash. Just text Bill. He'll come out and get you."

"Well, what if he doesn't want me there?" I left out the fact that I could just flash my badge and get in without a problem. "I don't wanna cramp the man's space."

He gave me the side eye. "I hope you're joking. Trust me. He wants you there. He'll probably ask you himself."

I giggled. "Okay." I carefully placed the photo in my bag. "Thanks, Sid."

"No, thank _you_. You did an awesome service tonight."

I smiled and hugged him.

"Now go see Bill," Sid insisted. "Go now. Get the fuck outta here." He shooed me away playfully.

I giggled. "Okay. I'll see you later."

"Damn right, you will. Don't disappoint me."

"I won't."

Picking up my bag, I pushed to my feet and made my way toward Bill's table. I was so nervous, my palms were sweaty and my stomach was in knots. He had a few fans in his line, who I got behind. As soon as he saw me, his whole face lit up.

"Don't stand in line, Samara! Get behind this table!"

Just like Sid had done, Bill invited me to sit next to him. I watched quietly while he interacted with the rest of his fans. When he was finished, he scooted his chair close to mine and spoke softly.

"Listen, there's a private after party at-"

"Sid already invited me," I said, giggling.

"Fucker beat me to it! Are you gonna come?"

"Yeah, sure, I'll go. He basically demanded it."

Bill laughed. "He would. Lemme guess. He gave you shit and said not to disappoint him."

I snorted. "Yup. He also signed somethin' fer me and said I had ta git you ta sign it, too."

"Oh, yeah?" He raised an eyebrow. "Hand it over."

I pulled the photo out of my bag and laid it on the table in front of him. "He also told me ta git Sheri ta sign it another time."

"Sid's a sneaky fucker," he claimed, smirking as he scanned the photo.

"Why?"

Bill lowered his voice to a whisper as he signed the photo. "I gotta do some extra shoots for _3 From Hell_ in a couple weeks. Rob called me tonight while you were interviewing Brad. I can get Sheri to sign it then if you want. Sid got the call, too. _That's_ why he gave you this picture."

"Really? Sweet!" I giggled. "Okay, yer right. That was kinda sneaky of 'im."

He nodded. "Yeah. I told Rob what happened."

My jaw dropped. "Oh, Jesus. Everyone knows, don't they?"

Bill snickered. "Yeah. I mean, our pic is on my Instagram. Have you even looked at your phone yet?"

"Not really. I checked ta see if you had sent the pic, but I've been too busy ta look at much o' anythin' else. I did notice ya followed me on Twitter and sent a Facebook friend request. I just haven't gotten around ta my notifications yet."

"I actually had to drop a friend to send that request. I'm at the limit." He passed the photo back, and I stuck it in my bag.

"Oh, no. Now I feel bad," I said.

"Don't. I have no idea who they were."

"Oh."

"When you go on Instagram, ignore some of the comments," Bill advised. "Some of them are pretty pervy."

"I can't say I'm surprised. I've seen fans say some wild shit under yer pics."

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah. I don't pay any attention. You shouldn't, either."

"I'll keep that in mind. What's the umm..." I gulped. "...dress code fer this after party?"

Bill shrugged. "Whatever you want. I'm going in what I have on." He was wearing a Gwar shirt and a pair of jeans.

"Okay, cool. I didn't wanna have ta wear anythin'..." I cleared my throat. "...girly. I ain't in the mood. I don't usually wear dresses. Sometimes, I wear sundresses cuz they're comfy, but that's really 'bout it." I dug in my pocket for some cash.

His eyebrows drew together. "What are you doing?"

"Sid signed the photo fer free, but you never said-"

"Oh, fuck no!" Bill shook his head. "I'm not taking your money, Samara!" He grasped my wrist and yanked my hand from my pocket. "No fucking way! Not after what you did. I'll sign anything on this fucking table and give it to you. I don't care what it is. I'll give you a copy of every photo and CD if that's what you want."

I smiled. "Thank you, but I'm good with what I've got."

"You sure?" He clasped my hand and rested it on his thigh. "I mean it. I'll give you whatever you want."

I blushed. My hand was on Bill Moseley's fucking upper thigh. I had dreamt about touching him since 2003, and now I was living out those fantasies little by little. "Yeah, I'm sure."

He chuckled. "You gonna dance with me at this party?"

"I will, but I'm gonna warn ya I can't dance fer shit. I'm a clumsy fuck. Let's just say I got two left feet."

He huffed out a laugh. "That's alright. I'll help you."

"I gotta figure out what I'm gonna do with my bag," I said, patting it.

"We'll put it with my stuff. It'll be safe."

"Okay," I agreed.

Bill glanced at his watch. "It's quitting time. Meet me at the hotel in about..." He clicked his tongue. "Two hours. I gotta clean up here, then go up to my hotel room real quick."

"You have a room? But we're in LA," I said, giggling.

"It's easier. That way I don't gotta haul shit back and forth or drive anywhere."

"Makes sense. Alright, I'll see ya soon."

Bill drew me in for a hug and kissed my cheek. "Okay, see you later."

I left his table in a stupor. I was about to go to a private after party and hang out with Bill Moseley and his buddies. This was a dream come true. 


	4. Chapter 4

I had some time before I was supposed to meet Bill at the after party, so I decided to sit in my car and go through the notifications on my phone. The air conditioning was on full blast, and music played at a reasonable volume. Neurosis bounced off my eardrums, one of my most favorite bands on the planet.

The first thing I did was accept Bill's Facebook friend request. Next, I clicked on Instagram. There were thousands of likes on the photo Bill had posted of us, and tons of people had tagged me in their comments.

Bill's caption read, _Met a beautiful, brave, amazing woman at the con tonight. She's actually a detective who saved my life. I'm taking her out on a date._

Smiling, I swooned on the inside. Damn it, he was fucking adorable. He liked me and didn't care who knew about it. He had a lot of followers, and for him to put that out there was a huge deal.

Most of Bill's fans were thrilled yet concerned he had been spared from death. They wanted to know what had happened. Some said I was hot. A lot thought we would make a cute couple. Some commented he should 'tap that ass', or that they would fuck me. Some disapproved of the age gap and claimed I was too young for him. Most didn't know he was separated and didn't understand why he was taking another woman on a date.

What happened between us was no one's business, but I was prepared to deal with his fans backlash. He had warned me to ignore some of the comments, but none of them bothered me. I had dealt with some skeevy people in my lifetime. What was under our photo wasn't shit compared to what I had contended with while undercover or in my personal past.

I had a lot of new followers. I assumed they were all fans of Bill's, but as I scrolled through my notifications, I realized some of them were other horror actors like Brad Dourif, Sid Haig, and Kane Hodder. I already followed them, so there was no need to follow back. The two new follows which surprised me the most were from Bill's daughters, Jane and Marion Moseley.

"Holy fuck me," I muttered. "Bill's kids are followin' me. I better not wake up and all this turns out ta be some elaborate fuckin' dream."

I followed them back instantly. I didn't see anything from Lucinda, but that didn't shock me. I had no idea how often she used Instagram or if she even had a profile. And why would Bill's soon-to-be ex-wife like a photo of him with another woman?

I liked and responded to appropriate comments under our photo, but I didn't explain what had gone down at the con. I would let Bill take care of that when he was ready. If he addressed it, he would probably do so on Twitter unless he recorded a video.

Twitter was the next social media platform I visited. I had a few new follows on there as well. Mostly horror icons like Sid, Brad, and Kane. A few people, I didn't recognize, but they were probably followers of Bill's. A link to my Twitter was on my Instagram as well, so that was probably how they had found me.

I had accepted Bill's Facebook friend request, but I hadn't checked any other notifications. Opening the app, I discovered I had more friend requests, again from Sid, Brad, and Kane. Some were people I didn't know, so I didn't accept those. However, I didn't deny them. I chose to let them sit until I had time to talk to Bill about them. Maybe he knew them.

By the time I was finished checking everything, my head was swimming. It was a lot to digest, but if I was going to get to know Bill on a personal level, I had to adapt to all of this recognition. I was normally an extremely private person, but I was ready to become more public for him if I had to. I had sworn off men, but Bill just might be able to persuade me to change my mind and allow him to pass the barriers guarding my heart. I was aware he was well worth it.

Checking the clock on my dash, I detected it was time to get moving. The Four Seasons hotel was only a few blocks away, and I planned on walking. My car was already safe in a parking garage. There was no point in moving it to another one when the hotel was in such close proximity. I would have to pay another parking fee, which would be stupid in my opinion.

Shutting off my car, I climbed out, stuffed my phone in my back pocket, and locked up. Instead of leaving my messenger bag with Bill's stuff at the after party as he had suggested, I opened my trunk and placed it and my flannel inside. I still had my badge and gun on my person. I didn't plan on leaving those behind, especially if I was going to walk the streets of Los Angeles at night.

Shutting my trunk, I attached my carabiner keychain to my pants loop and pulled my badge out from under my shirt. I sauntered over to the elevator, rode it to street level, and exited. As soon as I stepped out of the garage, Otis screamed from my back pocket.

"Run, rabbit, run! Run, rabbit!"

Pulling out my phone, I discovered it was a text from Bill.

Bill:_ I'm here. You're still coming, right?_

Grinning, I texted back.

Me:_ On my way right now. I'll be there in about ten minutes._

Bill:_ Good_._ See you soon._

With that, I shoved my phone back in my pocket and hurried down the street. Los Angeles never slept, especially on the weekend. Cars flew down the roads and people were strewn about as far as the eye could see.

Out in public, I always wore a neutral expression. Folks probably thought I was on the job, which worked to my advantage. Most of them took a look at my badge and gun and moved out of my way. I had to cross four intersections, but I was at the hotel in ten minutes just like I told Bill I would be.

Hovering at the entrance to the Four Seasons, I texted Bill and let him know I had arrived. He said he would be right out. While I waited, I paced back and forth with sweaty palms and a pounding heart.

As soon as he came out, he smiled brightly and embraced me. "You lost the flannel."

"I'm not at the con anymore. There's no reason fer me ta conceal my gun," I explained, grinning.

Bill nodded. "Come on."

He rested his hand on the small of my back and led me inside. The floor was made of marble and there was a massive crystal chandelier in the middle of the room. A few plants dotted the floor along sparkling white walls.

"Woah, this is super fancy," I marveled. "This shit is fer rich folks."

"Yeah. I never stay at these places," Bill replied. "I'm way too simple of a man for all this. It makes me feel uncomfortable. I'd rather stay at a Motel 6 or Holiday Inn. I mean, I still own a DVD/VCR combo for fuck's sake."

I giggled. "I know."

"Oh, right. Fangirl who stalks all my posts," he teased. "Of course you'd know."

"Yup. If it makes ya feel any better, I'd never stay at a place like this, either. I'm also too simple of a person. This ain't my style at all. It's also too much white. I'm into darker colors."

Bill grinned and guided me into a sitting room where the check-in counter was and through another door and down a long hallway. As we approached the end, loud music floated out from behind closed double doors. The genre was hard rock. It wasn't horrible but it wasn't great. I was just thankful it wasn't 80's pop. My ears would be bleeding if that was the case.

"There's food set up buffet style and a bar. You'll be surprised at the selection. They got whatever you want. It's already paid for, so you don't have to put up any cash," Bill said.

"Great, I'm starving. Tonight's drama ruined my appetite earlier."

"I know exactly what you mean. I'm gonna stuff my fucking face when we get in there. Come to the buffet with me and load up."

Cops and security guards stood in front of the double doors. They eyed my badge and gun and the pass around Bill's neck and stepped aside.

"Bill, Detective," one of them said politely. "Something wrong?"

"No, she's with me," Bill said.

"Alright."

We tipped our heads. Bill pushed the door open and ushered me inside. A band was up on stage, long rectangular tables were laid out with entrees and desserts, the bar was busy, and people were dancing. The entire room was horror-themed, even the food.

"This is awesome!" I exclaimed.

"I had a feeling you would like it," he said, his beard tickling my ear. "Come on. Let's eat."

Bill clasped my hand and tugged me towards the food. He had been correct when he had mentioned they had whatever I wanted. There was meat of every kind, same with vegetables; they even served grains. I picked food that wouldn't give me garlic or onion breath and a few desserts.

Once Bill and I had loaded our plates, he steered me over to a table with Sid and Kane. They greeted me cordially. They were also eating. As I sat my plate and utensils down, Bill spoke into my ear. Again, his facial hair caressed my skin.

"You want something from the bar? They have alcoholic and non-alcoholic drinks."

"Yeah, I'll go up there."

Bill nodded. Placing his hand on my lower back, he sauntered over with me.

"Oh, they are cute as _fuck_," Kane said over the music.

I assumed he was talking to Sid and pretended I hadn't heard anything at all. Bill didn't acknowledge him, either, but the corner of his mouth curled into a barely noticeable smile.

At the bar, we both ordered beer. As we turned to go back to our food, I tapped Bill's arm. He raised an eyebrow.

I lifted my mouth to his ear. "I'm only gonna drink two o' these. I gotta drive home."

"I'm not gonna drink any more than that myself. I'm staying at a different hotel and gotta walk. It's not far; about three blocks."

"I gotta walk back ta the parkin' garage by the con."

"I can walk back with you, then you can drive me back here or to my hotel," Bill offered.

"Works fer me."

I didn't need an escort, but I wasn't going to tell him no. I would take all the time with him I could get. If he wanted to walk me back to my car, I would gladly accept his company.

Returning to the table, we sat down and dug into our plates. Kane did most of the talking, as he was already finished with his food. I responded when I needed to, but I was mostly focused on my food and the happenings in the room. As a detective, it was normal for me to observe.

After downing half of his beer, Bill leaned over and tucked my hair behind my ear. "You're being a cop again," he said, his lips and beard brushing against me.

I nodded, doing my best to conceal the shiver which climbed up and down my spine. If he kept doing that, my panties would be wrecked by the end of the night.

"Sorry," I mouthed.

"Don't be. It's who you are. I like it."

I smiled. Bill draped his arm over the back of my chair, and we continued to eat. As soon as we were finished, he asked me to dance. I accepted. He took my hand and steered me to the edge of the dance floor.

We stood an inch away from each other so we could hear each other speak. At such close range, Bill's gaze was super intense. I was aware the man had striking eyes, but being face to face with him made me realize how beautiful they really were.

His irises were an electric blue with a midnight blue ring around the outside. Specks of sky blue swirled within the ring, and his pupils were slightly dilated. He blinked, his eyelids and lashes concealing his warm soul for just a second.

As his eyes reopened, passion radiated from within, and my knees morphed into jello. I forgot how to breathe, and my chest tightened and ached. I had to look somewhere else before his magnetism swallowed my soul.

"Christ," I muttered, sucking in a breath. Ripping my gaze from his, I stared over his shoulder.

"Are you alright?" Bill asked, snickering.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. It's just..." I shook my head, a light blush covering my cheeks. "It ain't important."

"Samara?"

I glanced at him. Staring into Bill's eyes in pictures or videos always made me feel strange inside, but doing so in real life only increased that feeling by a thousand fold. Breathing became more difficult, and the ache in my chest expanded. My knees turned even more rubbery, and I fought for my lungs to function. I was mesmerized. It took me a second to respond.

"Yeah?"

"You said you had two left feet?" Bill joked, his eyes twinkling.

"Yup, can't dance at all. I'm prolly gonna be fallin' all over ya," I said.

He smirked. "I think I can handle that."

"I hope so cuz I can almost guarantee that's gonna be a thing."

He smiled so hard, his eyes crinkled. "Well, the trick is to just let go and not worry about looking awkward. To be honest, I'm not all that great at dancing myself. Just listen to the beat and try to find your rhythm from that." He chuckled. "And don't look at your feet because then you'll think about how awkward you probably look."

I giggled. "Ooookay, I already feel weird as fuck."

Bill's earlier smirk returned. "Gimme your hand and follow me."

I held out my right hand, and he laced his fingers with mine. He rested his right hand on my hip and began to move. I placed my free hand on his lean chest and tried to do what he had said, but I failed miserably.

"Oh, my God!" I laughed as I tripped over my own feet. "I'm such a noob."

"You're fucking adorable," he insisted.

Blushing, I buried my face in his shoulder. "Seriously, I give up. Dancin' ain't fer me."

Snickering, Bill relocated my hand to the back of his neck and wrapped his arms around my waist. "This isn't the type of music for this, but fuck it. We'll do our own thing," he said into my ear.

His lips and beard grazed my skin again, and I shuddered. He noticed immediately.

"Oh, was that my fault? Sorry. I'll be sure not to do that again," he said dryly.

I lifted my head to look at him. The mischief in his eyes was unmistakable. Giggling, I immersed my fingers into his soft hair. Smiling crookedly, he led me in a slow sway.

"This is working out alright," he commented. His eyes flicked to something only he could see. "Kane and Sid are making fun of us. Brad has mosied his way over to the table, too. They're all talking shit about us."

"Fuck me..." I muttered. My eyes widened and my cheeks reddened. "Oh, fuck! I mean-shit! That ain't what I meant at all!"

Bill laughed so hard his entire body shook. I burrowed my face in his shoulder and wished I could curl into a ball and die.

"Oh, my God. I am so mortified," I mumbled into his shirt.

That only made him crack up all over again.

"I'm gonna have a heart attack right here in yer arms," I said. "I can't even fuckin' breathe."

"If your heart attack is bad enough, I might have to perform CPR. That may lead to other things," Bill teased.

"Yer flirtin' again," I accused, peeking at him through my hair.

"Yeah. I'm gonna keep flirting, too. It's cute as hell when you feel all awkward and your face gets all red."

"No, it ain't!" I squeaked. "I'm a cop! Cops do _not_ git embarrassed!"

"Well, I think work and matters of the heart aren't actually related," Bill pointed out, pushing my hair over my shoulder.

"Yer right. They're not," I agreed. "Can we just stay like this fer a bit? Even if this ain't how we're s'pposed ta dance?"

"Hey, I'm not gonna argue. We can stand here for the next hour if that's what you want."

Smiling, I curled my fingers into Bill's hair even further. Hooking my other arm under his, I rested my hand on his back. As I nestled my head on his shoulder, he tightened his hold. He nuzzled his bearded cheek against the top of my head and sighed. We swayed to our own imaginary beat instead of to the music in the room. Occasionally, he smoothed my hair or glided his hand up and down my back. And, he was always mindful of my gun.

_'I'm __cuddlin'__ with Bill Moseley,' _I thought. _'This ain't real. It can't be. This is one hell of a __dream.'_

I couldn't get over his smell. It wasn't just the small dab of cologne he wore, his deodorant, or the detergent he used; it was his shampoo, the smell of his house on his clothing, and his natural pheromones. I was practically salivating. Forget butterflies flapping around in my gut. I had an entire fucking zoo marching around inside of me. However, I was comfortable at the same time. His affectionate embrace made me feel at home. It was almost as if I belonged in his arms.

The band stopped playing, probably for a small break. I lifted my head to look at Bill, who was gazing back intensely. I felt like we were the only people in the room.

"You want another beer?" he asked, twirling my hair in his fingertips.

"Yeah." I nodded.

Bill backed off slowly, his touch lingering before he grasped my hand. We wandered over to the bar, grabbed two beers, and approached the table. Sid, Kane, and Brad were all smiling impishly.

"You ready to get fucked with?" Bill inquired softly.

I giggled. "Yeah. I know it's comin'."

"You're gonna get embarrassed, aren't you?"

"Prolly, but it's alright."

"Think you can handle them for a minute? I gotta go to the bathroom," Bill said.

"Yeah, I'll be fine," I assured.

As Bill sat his beer on the table and I plopped down in my chair, Kane tossed a piece of wadded up napkin our way. I reached out and caught it before it hit Bill in his belly.

"You like ta throw shit at Bill," I scolded playfully, dropping the paper ball on the table. "I've seen ya do it in videos time and time again. You like to throw markers at 'im. Yer nothin' but a lil kid."

"Hey, he does it to me, too!" Kane insisted. "He's not innocent, you know!"

Everyone chuckled.

"I gotta use the restroom. Don't fuck with Samara too hard," Bill said, his eyes narrowing.

"I won't," Kane promised.

"Yeah, sure you won't," Sid said dryly. "You probably got your fingers crossed under the fucking table."

As soon as Bill turned his back and walked away, Kane held up his hand. His fingers were indeed crossed.

"You asshole!" I laughed.

"Yeah, well," Kane smiled devilishly and bounced a shoulder. "Sid knows me pretty well."

Sid rolled his eyes. "Sometimes I wish I didn't."

"Oh, stop. You love my childish ass."

"No, I don't. I tolerate you."

"You do not." Kane flipped him off, which earned him a playful middle finger in return from Sid. "So Samara. What was with the slow dancing? You were all over Bill. That's not how you're supposed to dance to hard rock."

I blushed and scrubbed a hand over my face.

Brad jabbed Kane in his ribs. "Be nice. Bill said not to mess with her too much."

"Better listen," Sid advised. "Bill will have your hide. You will get stung."

"I heard what Bill said." Kane focused his attention on me. "By the way, are you secretly a ninja? You caught that wadded up napkin flawlessly."

"No ninja skills here, but I used ta play baseball quite a bit when I was younger. I was pretty good at it, too," I explained. "And the slow dancin' was cuz I _can't_ dance. I tried, as y'all prolly saw, and failed miserably."

"Yeah, we saw. We were all talking shit about you."

"Bill said you were."

Kane changed the subject. "Anyway, back to the napkin. So I guess that's why you caught it with your left hand? Because you used to play baseball? When you interviewed me, you jotted notes down with your right hand."

"Yup, that's exactly why I caught it with my left hand. I wore my glove on that hand."

"Bill likes baseball," Sid chimed in.

"He does," Brad added.

"I know. He posts 'bout it on Twitter a lot," I said. "He likes sports, period."

Our conversation flowed effortlessly for a few minutes until I stood up to throw away mine and Bill's empty plates and beer cups from earlier. As I made my way to a trash can, eyes burned a hole in me. I glanced in the direction the feeling was coming from and found Bill studying me from across the room. He had emerged from a small hallway marked _Restrooms_. 

I felt like he was undressing me with his mind. My lips curved upward, my smile widening as he grinned back. He crossed the room and met me halfway back to the table.

"They fuck with you too hard? Was your trip to the trash can your way of escaping?" Bill sprawled his hand over the small of my back.

"Nah, it was just Kane, and he was only jokin' around."

"I suspected as much. He likes to push buttons. He thinks he's funny, but sometimes he can be a bit too much," he grumbled.

"It's okay. I don't mind. He's just havin' fun. He don't mean nothin' by it."

We shut our mouths as we neared the table. Bill scooted his chair closer to mine and we sat down. He draped his arm over the back of my chair, and we all talked and played around. Paper balls were tossed our way quite often, but I usually caught them and threw them right back. I hit Kane in the face quite a bit, which made everyone laugh. Bill was impressed with my aim.

We nursed our beers and dealt with Kane's ribbing for a while. Sid groaned through it, and Brad chuckled. Each time I got embarrassed, I hid my purple face in my arms on the table. Bill rubbed a hand over my back every time in an effort to comfort me and bitched at his instigator of a friend.

"You're a real fucker, you know that? Leave Samara alone. I can take your bullshit and dish it right back, but she doesn't know you like that yet. Take it easy."

"It's fine. I can handle it."

That was Bill's response to Kane's horseplay and my reply to Bill. Sid and Brad thought the three of us were amusing, but they didn't butt in. Bill and Kane were both alpha males, but Bill was in complete control. I had the inkling he never let anyone get over on him.

After we finished our beers, Bill got us some water. The band was back on stage by that time, so we all had to yell to talk to each other. Except for Bill and I; when we wanted to speak to each other directly, we leaned in close. His lips and beard brushed my ear every single time. The mischievous glint in his eyes gave away the fact that he was definitely doing it on purpose. He was trying to rile me up and it was working.

Before leaving the after party, I had to pee. I said goodbye to everyone and darted to the bathroom. Bill was ready to go back to his hotel and met me outside the restroom door with his backpack.

"I'll walk back to your car with you, then you can drive me to my hotel. I know you're a cop and can hold your own, but I don't want you walking the streets of LA this late at night. I'm not taking no for an answer," he said firmly.

I smiled. "Alright. I ain't gonna say no ta havin' ya all ta myself."

Bill smirked and laced his fingers with mine. "Let's go."

We departed from the Four Seasons and made the trip back to my car quickly. Once I drove out of the parking garage, he directed me to his hotel. When we arrived, he gave me a long, affectionate hug and kissed my cheek.

"Text me when you get home. I wanna know you got there safely," Bill said. "I won't go to sleep until I hear from you."

"Alright," I agreed, nodding.

Satisfied, he climbed out of the car. He looked over his shoulder as he went inside the hotel and flashed me a dazzling smile. My insides turned into mush, and I grinned back. I drove home high on Bill Moseley. I did what he asked once I got there and texted him. We said goodnight, I relieved my bladder, stripped out of my clothes, and crawled into bed. The day had been eventful and I fell asleep immediately.

\------------

A/N: I had no dreams to base this chapter off of, so I had to write it from scratch. I've never been to a con and know nothing about after parties. I had to do some research, so forgive me if something is off.


	5. Chapter 5

Over the next week, Bill texted my phone and tagged me in his posts on Instagram quite a bit. When he wasn't doing those things, I was. We retweeted each other's Tweets and commented on each other's posts on Facebook as well. We were in constant contact in some way, shape, or form.

My friends and coworkers noticed immediately. They asked a ton of questions, but I stayed mute and let Bill answer them. He was just as reserved as I was, and I didn't want to put his business out there unless he was alright with it.

A few of my friends embarrassed the hell out of me by telling him I had been in love with him for years. He simply stated he already knew and left it at that. I had never breathed a word to him about how long I had been a fangirl of his, but my responses to things he had said since we had met had probably given him a humongous clue. He was intelligent and observant. There was no way he couldn't figure it out.

Bill ended up making a brief recording about what happened at the con. The video he uploaded to Instagram was just long enough to explain everything in vague detail. He also clarified he was getting a divorce and was free to date whoever he wanted. He was adamant he only desired to date me and didn't care if people approved or not. That made me feel like a million bucks.

One of the statements he made in the video was, "I realize there's a huge age gap between Samara and I. I don't give a fuck and neither should anyone else. I like her, she likes me, and that's all that's important."

Kane had snapped a picture of us dancing at the after party and sent it to Bill, who had forwarded it to me. Bill asked my permission to put it on his Instagram before actually doing so. I agreed only because it was a cute photo. We had been swaying to our own rhythm. My hair was covering my face, but Bill was floating on air. Even with his scruffy cheek pressed to the top of my head, his contentment was perfectly clear.

Bill was due to arrive at my apartment at 4 pm sharp. My roommate was at work, which I was grateful for. I didn't need her around to open her big mouth and mortify me.

A knock alerted me that he was at my doorstep. Hurrying to the door, I peered through the peephole to make sure it was him. Once I had confirmed it was, I opened the door.

"Hey!" Bill smiled brightly.

"Hi!" I beamed like the idiot fangirl I was.

His attentive gaze stopped briefly at the bullet scar on the right side of my chest, then continued down my black skull-covered sundress to my bare feet. He was dressed in a black _House of a 1,000 Corpses_ t-shirt and jeans.

"C'mon in." I ushered him inside and closed the door.

"Hey, wow," he marveled as he looked around. "This is every horror collector's dream house. It's like a horror museum in here."

"Yeah, I reckon it is," I said, chuckling.

I had posters, figurines, and thousands of horror movies. I also had morbid taste. My walls were crimson red, all my furniture was black, and I owned tons of candles. Skulls, dragons, and crystals decorated the tables and my bookshelf. An incense burner sat in the middle of my coffee table, along with tarot cards and a crystal ball. One tiny corner of the room was devoted to my cop decorations and photos.

"Oh, you're a goth girl," Bill realized. "Lemme take a look at your films." He moved over to my shelves of movies and skimmed over them. "Damn. You've got a lot of my films."

"I do have a lot o' yer films. Whatever I can find. And yeah, I am a goth girl, and I'm deeply spiritual. I have a fascination with macabre shit and the occult. My movie collection's in alphabetical order. Reckon you could say I got a touch of OCD. All my clothes are in order by color in my closet, too. Not that I own many colors other than black." I giggled. "You should see my dresser drawers. They're the same way. Everythin's in order by color. I have an order and routine fer everythin'. My roommate knows not ta fuck with my shit or touch my crystals cuz I get pissed."

"I like the dark side of things, too. Guess that's why I do so well in horror movies and love the genre so much. I also like order and routine. My dad was a Marine and those things are kinda embedded into my brain." He faced me and pointed to the scar on my chest. "That must be what I felt when you talked me through my one and only panic attack. My fingertip was in a dip in your chest."

I nodded. "Yer eyes got all big when ya touched it, so that's why I moved yer finger. It prolly made ya feel awkward."

"No, it was just a little, uhh, shocking. It's pink like it's freshly healed. Does it still hurt?" Bill asked.

I shook my head. "It's just a lil tender cuz it's new skin. I gotta keep it out o' the sun or put sunblock on it."

He tilted his head to the side. "Where else were you shot?"

"My stomach, hip, and thigh," I replied. "I can show ya the one on my thigh."

Bill's eyes glittered. "Yeah, sure."

My sundress was mid-thigh, so I didn't have to hike it up too far. The shot to my thigh had been the worst. There was not only the bullet scar but a long, thick line from an operation.

"Went clean through." I twirled around slowly so he could see where the bullet had exited. "Shattered the bone. I had ta have reconstructive surgery on my femur. I did physical therapy. I still do, just not as often or extensively."

"Christ," he breathed.

"Wanna touch it?" I asked coyly.

"I think I would probably do anything to touch you," Bill blurted, then laughed at his forwardness.

Giggling, I grasped his hand. "C'mere. I gotta lean against somethin' so I don't fall. My balance ain't exactly the best anymore. That's sorta why I sucked so much at dancin' last weekend. Not that I didn't suck b'fore, but the permanent damage definitely didn't help." I tugged him over to the couch and perched on the arm with one butt cheek. "G'head and touch it."

"Both sides?" he questioned, a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

"Sure. Why not?"

I braced my hands on the couch behind me. Crouching down, Bill stared into my eyes as he pushed the cotton fabric of my dress out of his way. My thigh lit up with goosebumps as soon as his hand grazed my flesh. He felt the bullet scar on the front of my thigh, then sprawled his fingers over my skin and slid around to the backside. I bit my bottom lip as he caressed my newly formed flesh and studied it. What I really desired was for him to touch me in a more intimate place, but it was too soon for that.

"Your skin is really soft," he said under his breath, his eyes bouncing back up to mine.

"Thanks," I said quietly. "I have arthritis in that leg now."

"I bet." Bill's hand glided around to the front of my leg, where he traced the long surgery scar. "You're lucky to be alive."

"That's what everyone keeps tellin' me, but I think it prolly just wasn't my time ta die." Taking his hand, I laid it on my hip so he could feel the indentation. "That one just clipped me. No big deal." I shifted his hand over to the slight concavity in my belly. "That one penetrated my uterus. I had ta have an emergency hysterectomy."

He winced. "And this one?"

He lifted his hand to the dip on my chest and brushed his thumb over it. My nipples hardened immediately. He noticed my headlights and absentmindedly licked his lips. 

I wasn't wearing a bra. I hated them and only wore them on special occasions. Hell, half the time I didn't wear underwear. Although, I did have them on today. They were necessary under a dress.

"A few more centimeters and it could o' been really bad," I murmured.

"You said you were undercover when this happened?"

"Yeah."

"How long?"

"Two years. I threw myself in front o' my partner, who was _not_ undercover." I laughed softly. "Totally blew my cover, but my partner was unharmed."

"Wow. You really are a hero."

"No, I'm not. I just did the right thing." I scooted forward. "This is hurtin' my ass."

"Oh, sorry."

Bill stood up and offered me his hand. I clasped it and he pulled me to my feet. Teetering, I gripped his shoulder. He placed his free hand on my good hip to steady me.

"You alright?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Let's do this interview."

He smiled, showing off his crooked front tooth. "Not without a hug first."

Grinning, I wrapped my arms around Bill's slender waist and tucked my chin into his neck. Just like at the con last weekend, he gave me a bone-crushing hug. He smelled so damn good, my knees were in danger of giving out. The one thing he did differently that he didn't do at the con was he rubbed his bearded face against mine. I released a long sigh and pressed my cheek against his. It was nice to be close to a man again, especially one I had crushed on ever since _House of 1,000 Corpses_ hit the theaters in 2003.

"What's the sigh for?" he teased, leaning back.

"Umm, nothin' bad," I said shyly. "I just like facial hair."

"I'll keep that in mind." Bill's eyes held a mischievous glint. "You wanna touch it? I touched you. You might as well touch me."

"I already did at the con," I reminded him.

He huffed out a laugh. "That hardly counts."

"Sure it does. I stroked it when you were upset, and I moved it out o' my way when I checked yer throat. How is that, by the way?"

"It's fine. Just a little scab."

"Show it ta me."

Bill grinned playfully. "I think you should check for yourself."

"Yer tryin' ta flirt again," I accused, smiling.

"Uhh, yup. Is it working?"

"Maybe."

"I just want you to touch me," he admitted.

My smile widened. I lifted my hand and immersed my fingers into his beard. "Hmph, it's softer than I remember, but ta be fair, I was more worried 'bout yer state o' mind than how soft yer beard was. I do remember yer hair bein' extra soft, though."

Bill grunted, his blue eyes trained on mine like a hawk. I swept his beard out of my way so I could take a gander at his throat. He swallowed as I ran my fingertip over the scratch, his Adam's apple bobbing.

"Looks alright ta me," I murmured.

"Goddamn it, you're fucking beautiful," he whispered, twirling a strand of my dark hair.

Blushing, I pushed his hair off his forehead and stepped back. "Uhh, thanks. Let's git this interview over with."

"Yeah, sure."

Bill followed me into the kitchen, where my messenger bag was sitting on the table. I expected him to sit across from me. Instead, he sunk down into the chair next to me. I took my recording device out of my bag and placed it between us, then pulled out a pad with my notes on it.

"You've got a cop's handwriting," Bill commented, scooting closer.

I chuckled. "Yer not the first person ta tell me that."

"Is there anything I shouldn't say during this interview?" he wanted to know. "Can I say fuck?"

"Say whatever ya want. I can always edit shit out later once I type up the article."

"You mean, like if I call you my future girlfriend?" Bill flashed me a dazzling smile. "Or my personal superhero?"

"Yeah." I laughed. "Yer serious 'bout the girlfriend thing, huh?"

"Oh, completely. As serious I was about the date we're gonna go on tonight."

"What if I don't want a boyfriend?"

"Oh, that's right." He stroked his beard. "You've sworn off men and are going to live the rest of your life as a crabby single lady. You're married to your job when you work the force. Any relationship you try to have ends up going to shit."

I nodded. "It's true."

Bill sighed. "I can handle your job, Samara. I'm an actor. I attend a lot of cons. I'm all over the place all the time. Sometimes, I'm gone for weeks or months. If anyone understands what being married to their job is all about, it's me."

"You've got a point."

"I'm hoping I can persuade you to change your mind," he said. "I'm a good man. I know you're aware of that." He raised an eyebrow. "What was that you said about Lucinda at the con?"

I giggled. "Who the fuck in their right mind would leave you?"

"Right." He grinned.

"I've got other reasons fer swearin' off men," I reminded him.

"I know. You can tell me about that later." Bill reached for my hand and laced his fingers with mine. "But I'm telling you I'm worth it."

I smiled. "Alright. I'm 'bout ta push record. I'm gonna ask ya shit ya've been asked a million times. I already know the answers ta these questions, but a lot o' people don't, so sorry fer the same old shit."

"Of course you know." He chuckled.

"Uhh, yeah. Fangirl, remember?"

"Right," Bill said, his eyes shining. "And about the same old questions, that's alright. I don't care."

"Cool. I got some new stuff fer ya, though."

"Yeah?" He rested his elbow on the table and leaned forward. "That's always a plus."

"Mmm, hmm."

Smirking, I pushed record on my device. I asked Bill tons of questions, and he provided the answers. The entire interview took about an hour and a half because his answers were long and detailed. One of the things I liked about him was, once he started talking, he didn't stop. And, I loved how he used his hands to express himself and get his points across. It was sexy. He told me many behind the scenes stories which were funny and fascinating. Once we were finished and I wrapped everything up, I stopped the recording.

"Hey, that was a good interview. No wonder buddies of mine spoke so highly of you," he complimented. "You're good at this."

"Thanks, but I think I'm prolly only good at it cuz I'm so used ta doin' research and questionin' perps."

Bill raised an eyebrow and straightened up in his chair. "I didn't even think of that. You're on to something there."

"Yeah. So where are we goin' on this...umm...date?" I inquired.

"I wanna take you to this really cool burger joint. They got the best burgers I've ever had. They taste really fresh. I swear the meat comes right off the fucking cow or something. I don't want this to be some elaborate thing. I'm not into that, and I don't think you are, either."

"Yer right. I'm not. I'm a simple woman. I like the lil things."

"I know." Bill's eyes traveled over my face. "You don't even wear makeup." His gaze dropped to my hands, which were folded on top of the table. "Or nail polish. You barely even have fingernails."

"I hate the shit." I laughed softly. "Don't even own it." I paused. "Well, I take that back. I use it on Halloween. That's it."

"I don't like it much, either, but I agree it's necessary for Halloween. And photo ops and filmmaking," he stated. "Anyway, this joint sits right on the ocean. You can walk right out onto the beach. There's a little boardwalk with benches and stuff. They got cool little shops, including ice cream spots. It lasts for like two miles."

"Won't ya git recognized down there?"

Bill shook his head. "Rarely. I go there all the time. It's not very crowded. It's a tiny slice of heaven no one knows about. Sometimes, a horror fan stumbles across my path, but not often. To be honest, I hardly ever get recognized anywhere I go, which is kinda nice. I mean, I'm famous, but I'm not Brad Pitt level famous. "

"Well, you should be. Yer totally underrated. Plus, yer better lookin' than he is."

"No way," he denied. "I'm way older than he is."

"Oh, yes, you are," I insisted. "Fuck age. Ya blow 'im away."

Bill smiled widely. "I think most people would disagree with you on that."

"I ain't most people."

"I noticed. It's one of the reasons why I like you. When I first asked you out, I thought you would say no. You're a lot younger than I am."

"I know how old ya are. I don't care 'bout that. Age is just a number."

"How old are you?"

"40."

Bill whistled. "That's a 27 year age gap, but I gotta say you're older than I thought you were."

I shrugged. "I'll let ya in on a lil secret. I'm only attracted ta older men. And no, I don't have daddy issues. I was born that way. All my exes have been older than me by at least 10 years."

"Hey, alright! Lucky me!" he said happily.

He was so damn adorable. I couldn't help but giggle. "I'm an old soul. I think I was born in the wrong decade."

Bill grinned. "You know, when it's just you and me sitting here like this, it's hard to believe you're a detective. You don't act like a cop at all."

"I only use the cop persona when I'm on the job," I explained. "I try ta leave that shit at the office as much as I can."

"Well, you sure used it at the con," he said. "I've never seen a woman act so badass in all of my life. You took charge in there, and you weren't even on duty."

"Honestly, I outranked all o' those cops. It was natural."

"How long have you been a detective?"

"Uhh..." I calculated in my head. "Over 12 years, but I started out as a beat cop. I had ta work my way up, but it happened quickly. Turned out I had a knack fer it."

"I'd say so."

"Tell ya what. Lemme git my stuff, git some shoes on, and I'll tell ya more once we go on this lil date."

"Okay. I'll wait in the living room."

I scooted my chair back and stood up. Bill tagged after me into the living room, and I continued down the hallway to my bedroom. All I had to do was grab a pair of flip flops and my string bag. It was small and carried my mace, tiny hairbrush, wallet, chapstick, gum, keys, and phone. I was leaving my badge and gun at home tonight. I didn't need those items for a date. I thought about strapping a knife to my thigh but decided against it.

Remembering the bullet scar on my chest, I dabbed a bit of sunscreen on it, then stuck my feet into a pair of black flip flops. Picking up my pre-packed bag from my bed, I departed from my room and strolled into the living room.

Bill was sitting on the couch flipping through a thick, handmade scrapbook. It was full of photos of him from over the years, mostly from his role as Otis and some personal pictures of him which were favorites of mine. I had included photos from all of the other roles he had done as well. Quotes of his and drawings I had sketched were displayed in between the pictures.

"Told ya I'm just a fangirl," I said, blushing.

Bill glanced up from my handiwork. "This is exquisite. This is true dedication. I'm actually flattered."

"Yeah, well, I've loved you since _House of 1000 Corpses_. I've followed yer career ever since. I put new stuff in there every time ya do a film."

"I see that. There are pics in here I've never even seen before. And the drawings. They're fantastic. You've got a lot of talent," he declared.

My face heated up even more. "Thanks." I shrugged. "I just know how ta search the internet."

"Well, yeah. You're a cop and a journalist." Bill closed the book and sat it on the coffee table. "I wanna look at one more thing before we go."

"Sure, g'head."

He hopped up and roamed over to the corner of the room that was reserved for my cop decorations and photos. He scanned over my medals and plaques, genuinely impressed.

"The Medal of Valor, huh?"

I tipped my head.

"Police Life Saving Medal...Los Angeles Police Star...Police Medal for Heroism...there are numerous awards here. One of the officers at the con said you were a highly decorated detective. Christ, this is amazing."

"I'm surprised ya remember that. You were in a lil bit o' shock."

"I remember everything."

Bill shuffled through some newspaper articles I hadn't had a chance to organize yet. Sitting them down carefully, he glimpsed over the framed photos of me on the wall in full uniform with other members of the Vice unit. There was even a picture of me with the homicide department.

"Homicide?" he questioned, arching an eyebrow.

"Oh, uhh, I had a partner who transferred ta Homicide. Eventually, a Vice case came up that was tied in ta Homicide. My old partner went to 'is Captain and put in a request fer my help. He told 'is Captain I had excellent investigation skills and would be a good fit fer the case. It was a temporary transfer. I went back ta Vice once the case was closed. Homicide was cool, but it ain't fer me. It's an ugly job. I'm too much of an empath ta deal with that shit day in and day out."

"Wow. All of this shit is a big fucking deal," he insisted.

"I just did my job and what I thought was right."

Bill closed the distance between us. "You keep saying that, Samara, but you really are an exceptional woman. You look good in uniform."

I smiled. "Thank you." 

"You ready?"

"Yeah."

"Alright, let's go."


	6. Chapter 6

Bill parked in front of a beachside burger joint called _Longboard Burgers and Fries_. The outside reminded me of a modernized diner. There was hardly anyone around.

"Yer right. It's dead around here," I said.

"Yeah."

He turned off the car and jumped out. He started to come over to my side, but I opened the door and climbed out on my own. As I met him at the front of the car, a light breeze blew through my hair, the salty smell of the ocean wafted up my nostrils, and seagulls soared overhead in search of their next meal. 

"I could've got the door," Bill said, lacing his fingers with mine. 

"Sorry. I'm not used ta men bein' so..." I shrugged. "...gentlemanly. And I've always taken care o' myself."

"No, _I'm_ sorry," he said, his tone sincere. "Sounds like you've been with some real assholes."

I huffed. "You have no idea."

He raised an eyebrow. "One of the reasons you've sworn off men?" 

"Yup. Reckon I'm gonna have ta git used ta bein' treated decently."

Pursing his lips, he shook his head and sighed. "Come on, superhero."

I grinned. That counted twice he had used that particular term of endearment. I wondered what else he would call me in the future.

Bill led me to the door and opened it. We stepped inside, the door closing behind us. Booths and oval tables lined the tiled floor. A long service counter sat adjacent to one marbled wall where employees did all of the cooking. A few people were seated and eating their meals. The atmosphere was casual, the noise level low; no music and only the patrons chatted.

A middle-aged man with glasses, deep-set crows feet, and receding, gray-blonde hair walked up to us with two menus, his smile warm. "Hey, Bill!"

"Hey, Mike," Bill said politely. 

"It's nice to see you again. It's been a while."

"Yeah, I've been pretty busy lately. Uhh..." Bill glanced at me. "...this is Samara. I'm trying to make her my new girlfriend, but she's...umm...a little reluctant. I'm trying to change her mind."

"Hi," I said softly, blushing.

Mike chuckled and extended his hand, which I shook firmly. "Good to meet you, Samara. Come on. I'll get you two a table."

"Can you put us outside?" Bill asked.

"Sure."

We followed Mike to the back of the building and out a door onto a stone patio. There was a cement wall about waist high. The sun would set soon, so I made a mental note to lean against the wall and watch.

Bill and I sat at a table next to the wall. I placed myself in the corner so I could observe whoever came and went from the burger joint and the people strolling on the boardwalk. Surveillance was a cop trait I would never get rid of. 

Mike laid down our menus, but Bill snickered and pushed his aside. "You already know what I want. The only order you need is Samara's."

Mike smiled. "Do you know what you want to drink?"

"Beer," Bill replied. "Duh."

"Uhh, do y'all carry Sam Adams?" I inquired.

"Yeah. That's what Bill drinks," Mike said.

Shrugging, I glanced at Bill and grinned. "Well, it's good shit."

Laughing softly, Bill nodded and pushed his hair off his forehead.

"You want that in a bottle or a glass?" Mike asked.

"Bottle," I responded. "I don't see a use fer a glass."

"Alright, I'll be right back." Mike turned his back on us and hurried inside.

"You are definitely _not_ your typical female," Bill pointed out. "Most women get fruity drinks."

"Oh, don't git me wrong. I like those kinda drinks, but I prefer beer. I got beer at the after party, too."

"Yeah, you did."

I opened the menu and looked over the different kinds of burgers. There was a 'create your own' section. When I saw the joint carried Old Bay seasoning, I squealed.

Bill threw his head back and laughed. "You're fucking adorable! What the hell was that all about?"

"They have Old Bay! I think I'm gonna die!"

He laughed again. "Yeah, they do carry it. Maryland seafood is the best I've ever had."

"I love dippin' fries in vinegar and Old Bay, and beer goes really well with that combo."

"It does," Bill agreed. "I've done that while I was in Maryland. That's where you're originally from, isn't it?"

"Yeah." I tilted my head slightly to the side. "How'd ya know?"

"Your accent."

"Oh. Is it that obvious?"

"Yeah, it is. I've been to every state in the US. I can tell the difference. I can hear the Baltimore accent, but yours has a bit more of a southern twang."

"My dad was born in Texas. He moved ta Maryland when he was 13," I explained.

"Yup." Bill nodded. "That's what else I'm hearing; Texas."

Mike appeared and placed our beers on the table. "You ready to order yet, or did you need a little more time?"

"No, I'm good."

I told Mike what I wanted, and he wrote it down on his order pad. As soon as he disappeared inside, Bill spoke up.

"It's my turn to interview you," he joked, sipping his beer. 

"Is it?" I flashed him a playful smile and lifted my bottle to my lips. "Haven't ya already done an intricate background check on me?" I shot him a knowing look. "Scorpios do that kinda shit. They get on the internet and find out whatever they can."

"Oh, you are _smart_. Smarter than I thought. I like that." He smirked. "Yeah, I did all that, but I wanna know more personal things. Your social media accounts didn't tell me shit."

"I keep 'em as undetailed as possible cuz o' my job. Don't want folks findin' out too much shit 'bout a cop."

"Makes sense," Bill said. "Do you mind if I ask questions?"

"Hit me with yer best shot. Fire away," I said.

I wasn't offended. I didn't have anything to hide. I had expected the background check. Scorpios were incredibly resourceful people. They were detectives in their own way. He probably knew way more than he let on.

He chuckled. "You just reminded me of that stupid pop song."

I smiled. "Pat Benatar?"

"Yeah! God, I hate that song." 

I giggled. "Me too."

Bill cleared his throat. "So why'd you move to California?"

I shrugged. "I got tired o' Maryland. Too many bad memories. Every which way I turned my head, I was reminded o' somethin' shitty. I just wanted ta ferget everythin'. I moved b'fore I b'came a cop. Wanted ta git as far away as possible and ended up here."

"Oh." It was obvious he wanted to ask more, but he decided not to push the subject. Maybe he already had an idea of why I had moved. "What do you like to do in your free time?"

"Uhh..." I clicked my tongue. "I like hikin'. I like ta go up to the mountains and hang out in the woods. I like takin' pictures o' nature. Photography is a lil hobby o' mine."

He grinned. "Does that mean you'll be taking pics of me?"

I tipped my head. "If you'll let me."

"Yeah, sure. I don't care. I've always got a camera in my face. I take my own pics a lot, which you're probably aware of because you follow every social media account I have," Bill teased.

Smiling, I tapped my chest. "Fangirl, remember?"

He chuckled. "What else do you like to do?"

"I like readin', and of course, writin'."

"Well, that's a given. You're a journalist."

"Yeah, but I write fiction, too."

That piqued Bill's interest. He leaned forward and crossed his arms on the table. "Yeah? What genre?"

"Don't laugh, but I write fan fiction. It's fun."

He smirked. "No shit. What fandom?"

"Mostly the Dixon brothers from _The Walking Dead_. I've dabbled in horror also."

"You mean you write certain horror characters?"

I nodded.

"Like who?"

"I've written Henry from _Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer_ and Otis Driftwood."

"You're a Rooker fan?"

I bobbed my head. "A big one. I fuckin' _love_ 'im."

"That's awesome. Rooker's great. I did a film with him."

"I know, but 'is part was cut from _Rogue River_."

Bill laughed. "Of course you know."

"Fangirl," I said for what felt like the millionth time since I had met him.

"You said you write Otis?" He rubbed his hands together like an eager little boy, his eyes shining like crystals in the sunlight. "You gotta let me check that out."

"Fuck no," I refused firmly, shaking my head.

"Oh, come on," Bill whined. "Why not?"

"Umm..." Blushing, I stared down at my clasped hands. "Because it's embarrassin'. It ain't just fan fiction; it's erotic fan fiction."

"Oh...you mean...ohhhhh," he breathed, his eyes widening. "Oh, my God!" He laughed. "That's hot!"

"It's not just hot, it's scorchin'." The blush on my cheeks heated up even more. "There is no way in hell I'm lettin' ya read that shit."

"Oh, come on!" Bill begged. "You gotta at least tell me if you make Otis sadistic."

"I keep 'im in character, but he doesn't hurt 'is partner. She's like family to 'im, another Firefly. Let's just say Otis is in ta BDSM."

"Hmph. That actually makes perfect sense. Lemme guess. He's the dominant one."

"Yup."

He groaned and rubbed his hand over his face. "Okay, that's turnin' me on. Time for a different question."

I giggled. The fact that he was aroused excited me. Heat boiled in my gut, but I ignored it. I had a feeling he was dominant in the bedroom, which was perfectly alright by me.

He smirked. "Who's the most fascinating person you've ever met? I know you've met a lot of famous people."

"Oh, that's easy. You," I said without hesitation.

Bill's eyes glittered. "I was hoping you'd say that. What's your favorite band or bands?"

"Oh, geez. I have so many. Pantera, Slayer, Down, Neurosis...uhh...Crowbar, The Doors, Zeppelin, Pig Destroyer. I can keep goin'."

"By all means," he urged.

"Uhh..." I clicked my tongue. "Nine Inch Nails, White Zombie, Sepultura, Tool...that's all I can really think o' right now."

"You have good taste in music. I like pretty much all of those bands. I'm assuming Pantera is probably your favorite since you said that first."

"You'd be right. I've had a fangirl crush on Phil Anselmo since I was a very young teenager."

Bill snickered. "He's a friend of mine. He's an awesome person; an incredibly creative goofball. I did an album with him."

"I know. I own it."

Nodding, he laughed. "I'm not surprised. You know he had that haunted house thing every year, right?"

"House of Shock? Of course, but it closed down in 2017 and was replaced with New Orleans Nightmare. Phil's not affiliated with that anymore."

"Right. I could probably arrange for you to meet him and interview him."

"Oh, no." I shook my head. "You don't gotta do that."

"I know. But if you want me to, just say the word. I'll call him in a heartbeat."

"God, that's so fucking sweet," I gushed. Blushing, I covered my cheeks with my hands.

"Uhh..." Bill changed the subject. "What's something you don't like?"

"Crowds, but I deal with 'em quite a bit. Liars, cheaters, narcissists. I can spot one o' those a mile away."

"The empath thing?"

"Yeah, that helps. Plus, my cop trainin'."

He grunted and stroked his beard. "Alright, I got one for you. What do you like but are embarrassed to admit?"

"Aww, shit." I buried my purple face in my arms. "You."

"Oh, man. You just passed the biggest test of all."

I peeked at him through my hair. "Of course yer testin' me. Yer a Scorpio. That's what y'all do."

Bill laughed. "Yup. When's your birthday? What's your astrological sign? I couldn't even get that info from your social media accounts. You got that shit on lockdown."

"March 12th. Pisces."

"Ooh, fuck," he hissed, shoving his hand through his hair. "No wonder I like you so much. I have a thing for Pisces women."

"Seriously?" 

"Yeah, no joke."

"Oh, my God..." Even though my face was blood red, I straightened up and gulped down half of my beer. "Why?"

Bill rolled a shoulder forward. "A lot of reasons. Their mystery, their spiritualism, their romantic nature. They're very sensitive, intuitive, passionate, and curious people. They have great imaginations. They're dreamers and they're soft-hearted. A lot of them are psychic. They're creative, artistic, mystical beings. They love deeply, and they like to heal and help others. And to be honest, they're good in bed. My oldest daughter's mother is a Pisces."

I grinned. "I'm all o' those things, but I have a lot o' Virgo and Sagittarius throughout my star chart, and a few Scorpio traits dotted in as well. I don't let people walk all over me. I'm a cynical realist. I'm suspicious of everyone. I'm also brutally honest and blunt. And, Jesus. Don't piss me off. That's a terrible idea. And please don't insult my intelligence or underestimate me. Ain't sayin' ya'd do any o' that. Just sayin'."

"I would expect all of that from a cop. You're also shy."

"I'll git over that eventually. I always do." I turned the conversation on him. "Yer relationship with Jane's mother didn't work out."

"No, it didn't," he admitted. "That's because I'm a Scorpio, and sometimes my sting is harsh. She couldn't deal with that. She was way too sensitive and clingy. I couldn't get alone time. I need that to recharge."

"I git that. I need it, too."

"But that spiritual connection I shared with her? I've never been able to find that again. I've been looking for it ever since," Bill said, his tone serious. "Lucinda was cool. She was loyal. At least, she was up until the end. And, we had a lot in common, but I didn't have this with her." He tapped his third eye.

"Yeah." I nodded. "I gotta have that with a man or I'll drop 'im."

"Then you get it."

"Mmm, hmm." 

Pulling my beer bottle away from my mouth, I licked access liquid from my lips. Bill's eyes followed my tongue as it dragged across them. He bit down on his bottom lip, his nostrils flaring. 

"Okay, next question. Cats or dogs?"

"Cats," I replied. "I'm not really a dog person at all. Cats can take care o' themselves. Dogs need a lot more management."

"I like both," he said. "Morning person or night owl?"

"Definite night owl."

"Yeah, me too."

"Uhh, yeah. I know. You post late at night a lot."

Bill smiled. "What do you like to do to unwind?"

"Massages and hot baths. Music. Writing. A good comedy or comedic performance; anythin' that makes me laugh. Alcoholic beverages. Occasionally, I smoke weed."

He laughed. "You're a cop and you smoke weed?"

"Yup. This is California, not Kentucky. Sex helps me unwind also, but I haven't been with a man in a long time."

He raised an eyebrow, his eyes flickering. "That's very true. What fad have you never understood?"

"The entire 80s decade. I hated everythin' 'bout the 80s."

Bill snickered. "The 80s were pretty fucking awful."

I giggled. "They really were. The only good thing ta come out o' that time was good thrash metal and horror films."

"Pretty much, yeah. What's something you've tried but will never do again?"

"Anal sex," I blurted without thinking. I was afraid it was too much, but Bill laughed and almost choked on his beer.

"Oh, my God! I'm guessing you had a bad experience?"

"Yeah. I'll try anythin' once, but the dude really didn't know what the fuck he was doin'. It hurt like hell. Plus, he had a big cock. I was sore fer days afterward. It was a total fucking nightmare; literally."

He shook his head, the shine in his eyes becoming more prominent. "You poor thing."

"Sorry if that was too much." I glanced at the boardwalk. Thankfully, no one was around. "I mean, we're in public. I didn't think. I just-"

Bill held up a hand. "No, it's fine. I'm a Scorpio. I love talking about and having sex. I'm not afraid to admit that I'm a bit of a sex addict." He smirked. "And I definitely know what the fuck I'm doing."

I grunted, my eyes trailing over his upper body. "So I guess ya don't have no problems gittin' it up?"

He snorted. "Fuck no! I can go for hours. I've got tons of stamina. I exhaust my partners."

"Damn..." Finally acknowledging the growing ache between my thighs, I crossed my knees.

Mike walked out with our food, interrupting our stimulating conversation. He sat our meals down, and we thanked him. The buns were homemade and the fries cut by hand. I had a side of vinegar and Old Bay with my fries and a dill pickle.

"Hey, can we get another beer?" Bill asked. Our first bottles were empty.

"Sure."

"Thanks."

Mike vanished.

"This looks good," I commented, pointing at my food.

"Trust me, it is. Dig in. I'm gonna keep asking you questions," Bill said.

I smiled. "Okay."

Our conversation slowed down because we were busy stuffing our faces. Every time Bill swallowed, he asked a question. I responded after I did the same. We had to wipe our mouths a lot because the food was a bit messy, but I was perfectly fine with that. I would rather have a down to earth meal than something fancy any day of the week.

"What's your favorite smell?" he inquired.

"Uhh..." I chewed my cheek. "Probably lilacs, roses, fresh rain, campfires, wisteria, cucumber melon; I like jasmine and earthy incenses, but I don't like anythin' too strong. My senses are far too heightened and I git nauseous."

"I'll keep that in mind. I wear cologne."

"I've smelled it," I said, giggling.

"Is it too much?" Bill asked.

"No. It smells really good," I complimented.

He smiled. "Thanks. Have you ever felt like you met someone from a past life? Do you have a soulmate?"

"I mean, I have soulmates, but not the lover kind. At least, I haven't found 'im yet. I know he's out there." I gave him the side-eye. "That was a test, wasn't it?"

"It was," Bill confessed, chuckling. "I wanted to know if I was gonna end up getting jealous over someone."

I grinned playfully. "No. I swore off men, remember?"

Mike walked back out with our beers, sat them down, and strolled back inside. 

"You gonna tell me about that?" Bill prodded.

I sighed. "Well, I've been hurt a lot. Far too many times, ta be honest. I don't have the best taste in men. I've had 'em try ta control me, I've been abused mentally and physically, someone even tried ta kill me once. Hence, one o' the reasons why I moved ta California. That was b'fore I was a cop."

Bill's eyebrows furrowed and his eyes filled with fire, but he stayed quiet. I had a feeling he already knew. If he had done an extensive background check, he would have found out about some of those things because I had been to court in the past over some of that stuff. They were a part of the Maryland judicial system and were documented as public record. 

"Yeah. I don't really wanna get in ta any details. Too hard ta talk about. Let's just say I have trust issues," I added. "And we're in public."

He bobbed his head. "Understandable."

"Also, one man tried ta change me. He didn't like who I was and wanted me ta b'come someone else."

"Okay, I'm gonna tear a page out of your book. Who the fuck would wanna change you?!" Bill exclaimed. 

I smirked. "Yer referrin' ta my question 'bout Lucinda leavin' ya?"

"Well, yeah!"

"I dunno. Folks're crazy. He wanted me ta be more sunshine and roses instead of dark and gothic. Fer some reason, I attract assholes. I must have a bright neon sign on my forehead that reads, callin' all abusive assholes! Here's a person fer ya ta fuck up!"

"Pisces women do tend to attract some manipulative fucks," he agreed.

"Yeah. The thing is, I won't put up with it."

I grew mute and chewed my lip. Turning my head, I stared out at the waves rolling in on the beach.

"Samara?" Bill reached across the table and touched my hand.

"Hmm?" 

I didn't bother to look at him. I didn't want him to see how upset I was. However, that cute lisp of his helped stifle the bad feelings in my heart and allowed warmth to penetrate the barbed wire and lock which surrounded it.

"Where did you go?" 

"Stuck in a memory I don't wanna be in," I said softly. "You don't wanna hear 'bout my baggage. At least, not on the first date."

"I'm sorry," he murmured, stroking the back of my hand with his thumb. "You don't have to talk about it."

Shrugging, I picked up a fry, dipped it in vinegar and Old Bay, and shoved it into my mouth. Bill didn't say anything for a few minutes. We simply continued to eat. He let me have the space I needed, but his hand never left mine. After I was convinced I had pushed my emotions down far enough, I faced him.

"You can tell me when you're ready. I'll listen. About that memory you don't wanna think or talk about, I mean," he said.

I gulped. "I'll keep that in mind." Finished with my meal, I pushed my empty plate aside. "Thank you. That was good. Yer right. That burger did taste like it came right off a fuckin' cow. And those fries with vinegar and Old Bay hit the spot."

"Anytime," Bill said. "Glad you liked it."

Picking up my beer, I slammed it back.

"Trying to suppress that memory, huh?"

"Yeah," I breathed, licking foam from my lips. "Prolly not the best copin' mechanism, but it temporarily does the job."

"Indeed, it does." His eyes lit up. "Hey, wait a second. Did you say not on the first date? Does that mean you'll go out with me again?"

My eyes widened. "I did say that, didn't I?"

Bill laughed and nodded.

I smiled. "Yeah, I'll go out with you again. I'd be crazy not to."

"Hey, alright! You done?"

"Yup."

"Me, too."

Bill knocked on the glass window of the burger joint to gain Mike's attention, who came outside immediately. While Bill took care of the check, I pushed to my feet and leaned against the wall. The sun was beginning to recede, and the colors in the sky were an artist's palette of pink, orange and purple.

Once Bill was finished with Mike, he stepped up behind me. Resting his arms on the wall next to mine, he pressed his chest against my backside. I placed my hand over his and squeezed gently.

"Beautiful," he muttered.

"It is."

"Yeah, the sunset is pretty, but I meant you," Bill murmured, rubbing his scruffy chin against my bare shoulder. His lips caressed my skin so lightly, it was barely noticeable.

"Thank you," I said shyly. I wasn't used to compliments, especially genuine ones.

"I took your picture. Hope you don't mind. Your hair was blowing in the breeze, the sun was shining on you just right." He kissed my temple. "You looked like a dark-haired goddess or something I've only seen in my dreams."

My heart melted, but I didn't let him see it. "It's fine." I changed the subject. "The sunset is different here compared ta Ocean City. In Maryland, the sun doesn't set over the ocean. Here, it does. It's gorgeous."

"Yeah." 

We stood in comfortable silence while the sun made its descent. The only time I closed my eyes was when Bill's mouth grazed my skin. There was real passion and affection behind his touch, not just lust. He didn't want to just get me into bed. He truly cared for me, which made me feel like I had won the lottery.

Once the sun had dipped below the horizon, Bill asked, "You wanna walk for a while?"

"Sure. It's good fer my leg."

"We can go on the beach if you want."

I twisted around to look him in the eye. "Nah. I don't wanna git sand in yer car."

His eyes glittered as they traveled over my face. "I don't care about that. I can always vacuum it out. You wanna walk on the beach, we can do that."

"Okay, but not now. Maybe later."

Nodding, Bill bit his lip and stared at my mouth. My heart fluttered. Reaching up, I brushed his hair from his forehead.

"You're lucky we're in public," he whispered as a conversing family strolled by on the boardwalk.

Giggling softly, I embraced him and nestled my head against his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around me and kissed my head. Backing me against the wall, he pressed his entire body against mine. I could feel every lean muscle in his torso. I could even feel his groin, which was slightly hard. That aroused me immensely. It had been way too long since I had kissed a man or had intercourse.

"Bill?" I lifted my head to gaze at him.

"Yeah?" he husked.

"Let's go."

"Just a minute." He stepped back, turned, and roamed over to the back door of the burger joint. "Mike!" he called. "Me and Samara are going for a walk! I don't know how long we'll be! Don't have my car towed!"

"I wouldn't do that!" Mike responded, chuckling.

Smirking, Bill faced me and held out his hand. I moved toward him and clasped it. He led me off of the patio and down onto the boardwalk. Our conversation flowed easily as if we were two old friends catching up after years of not seeing each other. He pointed out little stores he liked along the way, but both of us were too full for any sweets or ice cream. We stopped once to pee and get some bottled water, but walked until we reached the end of the boardwalk and it was completely dark.


	7. Chapter 7

Spying a bench which faced the ocean, I said, "I need ta si'down."

"Yeah, sure. You alright?" Bill asked. "I noticed you have a slight limp."

"Not gonna lie. I'm in a little bit of pain, but I'll be fine. The exercise is good fer my leg."

He steered me toward the bench, and I eased down onto it. Sighing, I clasped my hands in my lap. He plopped down on my left side, draped his arm around my shoulders, and crossed his left foot over his right knee. We glanced at each other at the same time. I had something on my mind, and I wasn't sure if I should verbalize my thoughts or not. Every man I had opened up to in the past had criticized me. They claimed I was too emotional and never validated my feelings.

Bill studied my stiffened expression, his fingertips stroking the skin on my upper arm. "Out with it, superhero," he coaxed softly. "Tell me what's wrong."

"Umm..." I hesitated, grimacing. 

"I'm not gonna bite," he promised, smirking. "Well, not under these circumstances."

_'Woah, that's hot,'_ I thought.

Trying my best to muster a smile, I succeeded. I wasn't used to telling people my innermost thoughts. I didn't like to show any hint of vulnerability, but Bill was prodding because he genuinely cared and didn't like seeing me upset. 

"I'm gonna have ta take a physical requirements test soon ta see if I can return ta the police force. I dunno if I'll pass. In fact, I'm pretty certain I won't," I said, my tone gloomy.

"Well, shit. What happens if you don't?" 

"They'll prolly offer me a disability retirement pension." 

"That sucks," Bill said bluntly. "But at least you'll still get some kinda income."

"Yeah, but if I don't pass the test, I won't be able ta work with people I've grown ta love. However, at the same time, I'm not sure I wanna go back. I'm kinda torn."

"Why?"

"I just..." Exhaling heavily, I turned toward him, laid my head against his shoulder, and closed my arm around his waist. "Bein' a detective is hard work. I don't have time ta do shit when I'm on duty. I'm undercover a lot. I'm on call constantly. I'm in bad situations all the time. I deal with a lot o' awful people. As an empath, that's hard fer me. It's emotionally exhaustin'. Truthfully, I'm kinda burnt out on police work. 

Journalism was always my dream job anyway. Now that I'm workin' fer the horror magazine, I'm a much happier person. I'm doin' what I love in a fandom I love. I really don't wanna give it up ta go back ta police work. If I fail the test, which I prolly will, I couldn't have a desk job as a police officer within the department. However, I could always work in a civil service position."

"I understand you getting burnt out. Who wouldn't? But a civil service position is another back-up job if the journalism doesn't work out," Bill noted.

"Yeah, that's true." I changed the subject. "Do ya know anythin' about the night sky?" 

"A little. Not too much. I can identify the Big Dipper, little shit like that. Astronomy is an interest of mine, though."

"Well, yer in luck cuz I know stuff." I pointed to a red dot in the sky high above us. "See that reddish-tinted star?"

"Uhh..." He lifted his head. "Yeah."

"That's Antares. It's part o' the Scorpio constellation. See how all those stars curl around and make a tail?" I traced the shape in the sky with my fingertip.

"Yeah."

"That's Scorpio."

"Huh. That's cool," Bill muttered.

"Over there?" I indicated further to the left. "That really bright star?"

"I see it," he said.

"That's actually not a star. That's Jupiter."

"No shit. That's awesome."

"And that bright star above the moon?"

"Yeah."

"That's actually Saturn."

Bill twisted toward me. "How do you know all this?"

"I'm an amateur astronomer. I go ta star parties and stuff."

"What the fuck else can you do?" he marveled.

I giggled. "I prolly should've told ya that when I go up ta the mountains and hike, I take a telescope with me. I go campin' and look at the night sky. Maybe you can go with me some time."

"Fuck yeah, I'll go!" 

"I go hard campin'," I warned. "No electricity; just the essential supplies, a tent, and nature. I like ta go off the grid every once in a while. Although, I don't git ta disappear much cuz o' detective work."

"I don't give a fuck. I'll still go."

Smiling, I scooted as close as I could get and stroked his beard. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of a shooting star. I gasped and turned my head just as he lowered his face to kiss me.

"Bill, look!" I dropped my hand to his shoulder.

Another shooting star streaked across the night sky, then another; a fourth and fifth followed.

"Hey, wow," he mumbled. "If that's not some kinda sign, then I don't know what is."

I laughed softly. I waited for more, but none came. "I guess that's all of 'em."

"Samara?" Bill husked, cupping my jaw.

He gently turned my face back to his. Those blue eyes of his stared into my soul, and I forgot how to breathe. His arm tightened around my shoulders, pulling my upper body against his. Resting his forehead against mine, he tilted his head and grazed my lips with his own. Neither one of us closed our eyes. Some folks might think that was creepy, but it was one of the most erotic moments of my life.

Bill pressed his warm, soft lips to mine, and I almost fainted. I was glad we were sitting down, or I would have been in a heap on the boardwalk. As he pulled back to gaze at me, I immersed my fingers into his beard. We both took shallow, shaky breaths, but his were the most ragged of all.

Unable to control himself any longer, he gripped my lips passionately. He sucked on my top lip tenderly, the tip of his tongue swiping over the seam of my mouth. His thumb traced my bottom lip, slowly pried my jaw open, and his tongue darted inside my mouth to caress my own. 

_'Oh, my God, I'm kissin' Bill fuckin' Moseley. I'm gonna die right here,'_ I thought frantically. 

My heart rate shot through the roof and my head swam, but I somehow managed to kiss him back. He tasted like beer, sugary-sweetness, and something that was all him, and I wanted more. His hand slid down my neck and across my shoulder. His touch was delicate, the swirl of his tongue demanding. 

I deepened the kiss, lightly yanking on his beard to bring him closer and consume as much of him as possible. Closing my other arm around his backside, I skimmed his spine with my nails. He groaned deep in his chest, which made my pussy tingle and pulse. If we had been somewhere private, I would have straddled his lap, undone his jeans, and fucked him.

Bill's feather touch roamed over my back, making shivers crawl up and down my spine. We devoured each other with no desire to break apart. As his hand glided up my thigh and under my sundress, wetness seeped out of my aching pussy. There was no one around but us, so I didn't stop him as he hooked his thumb into the hem of my panties and rubbed my skin.

As he explored my mouth more thoroughly, I moaned softly. That set him off, and he fisted my underwear. He started to yank them down but stopped himself just in time.

Ripping his mouth from mine, he sucked in oxygen. His eyes were pools of molten lava. I was sure mine mirrored his passion.

"Holy fuck," Bill breathed, his nostrils flaring.

Removing his hand from under my dress, he scrubbed it over his face. I combed my fingers through his hair and beard, unable to form coherent words.

"You know that connection I mentioned earlier? The one I had with Jane's mother?" he panted.

I nodded and dropped my hand to his chest. His rapid heartbeat matched my own.

"Well, I just found it," Bill insisted. "And it's deeper than the one I had with her. Now I'm wondering if Lucinda left because you were coming."

"M-maybe," I stammered.

"Everything happens for a reason," he declared. "If you weren't shot, you wouldn't be a journalist. If you weren't a journalist, you wouldn't have interviewed my friends. You wouldn't have been at the con doing interviews. You wouldn't have saved my life. You wouldn't have interviewed me earlier today. We wouldn't be together right now. When did you start working for _Gore and Cadavers_?"

"Mmm...it's been 'bout six months."

"That's when Lucinda left. I keep thinking about all this shit, and I'm becoming more and more convinced that this is fate."

Taken aback, I blinked. The man had a valid point. Humming, I buried my face in his neck and inhaled his scent. The cologne he used drifted up my nostrils, and the hand I had on his chest glided down to his belly.

As I ran my lips over the crook of Bill's neck, he groaned. "You gotta stop or I will pull you on top my lap and fuck you right here."

"I think ya mean I would fuck _you_," I whispered, sucking his earlobe between my lips.

"Goddamn it, Samara," he snarled. "Don't talk like that. Not here."

"You like dirty talk?" I asked, my tone innocent.

"Fuck yes, I like it!"

Purring, I nuzzled his beard with my face. Turning his head, he seized my mouth with his and claimed it with his tongue. I was drunk on Bill Moseley and super close to hopping on his lap and fucking him just like he had said. As my hand slipped further down his abs, he grabbed it, placed it on his groin, and squeezed. He was as hard as steel and threatening to bust out of his jeans.

"See what you're doing to me?!" 

"What, ya think my pussy ain't wet and achin' ta be filled with what's between yer legs?" I fired back.

Growling, Bill released my hand. I laid it on his thigh, and he shoved his hand up my dress. As he brushed a finger over the front of my damp panties, he gritted his teeth.

"We can't do this here," he hissed.

"I know." Disappointment was evident in my voice. "Let's just calm our tits and walk back once yer hard-on goes down."

Grunting his agreement, he removed his hand from between my thighs. Huffing, he shifted around on the bench and tried to get more comfortable. We huddled together quietly for a few minutes and stared at the waves crashing onshore.

Finally, I spoke. "I'm not usually this...uhh..." I groped for words.

"Horny?" he filled in, laughing.

"Yeah, or forward. Don't git me wrong. I have a healthy sex drive. When I have a partner I'm all 'bout a good romp in the sack, but I never act like this on a first date. The dude is lucky if I even kiss 'im. I don't want ya ta think-"

Cutting me off with a sweet kiss, Bill drew me further into his side. "No, Samara. I don't think anything bad about you. _I_ started this. You wouldn't have done anything if I hadn't kissed you first. I know that. I also know how much you like me by how intimately you kissed me back. You're reserved and shy. I'm usually a little more reserved myself. I have a hard time trusting people. I don't put my feelings out there easily, but you bewitched me at the con. I'm really picky about who I sleep with, but I was ready to fuck you on this bench. If we were somewhere else, I would've taken this to the next level."

I giggled. "And I would've let ya. I was thinkin' I wanted ta hop on yer lap earlier."

"Great minds," he said. "How long's it been since you had sex?"

"Oh, geez," I said thoughtfully. "At least 3 years."

"Oh, it's time to change that," Bill stated, chuckling. "You're deprived."

I laughed. "Hey! I have toys!"

"That's hardly the same and you know it."

"Okay, yeah. Yer right. It ain't the same, but it's not like I ain't cummin'."

"Yeah, but there's no intimate connection," he pointed out.

I sighed. "Yeah. Most o' the men I've slept with weren't in it fer the connection. They just wanted ta fuck. Which, that's okay sometimes, but not when I _never_ git a connection. That's why I always dropped 'em. Especially if they were abusive."

"I'm sorry," Bill murmured. "You deserve so much better. I wanna give that to you."

"I'm scared," I blurted. "I'm damaged and broken inside. Are ya sure you can deal with that? It's gonna take a while fer me ta fully open up."

"I can handle it. I know you're damaged and broken. I can see the pain when I look into your eyes. I've been hurt, too. Lucinda...well, let's just say we have that in common."

"I know. It's no secret I like you, and that I've fangirled over you for 16 years. I'm prolly gonna regret sayin' this, but you could really hurt me."

"I don't wanna hurt you," Bill whispered. "I wanna make you happy."

"What if ya walk away cuz o' my job?"

"I could say the same thing. Or you could decide the age gap is too much, but we already talked about that." He released a soft breath. "And besides, you said you might fail the physical requirements test. You might not be a cop anymore, so that may not be an issue."

I grunted.

"Look. There are a lot of what-ifs here. Let's not get ahead of ourselves. Let's just take this one step at a time and enjoy this for what it is, alright?"

"What is _this_ exactly?" I inquired.

"Right now, we're just two people spending time together who like each other. I want you to be my girlfriend. I've made that abundantly clear, but I'm not gonna push you to do anything you don't wanna do. I guess we're dating. If that's what you want, I mean."

"Yeah, that's what I want."

"Just a warning. I don't like to share," Bill cautioned.

"And I don't like ta date more than one man at a time."

"Then we have an understanding."

"Yeah." I nodded firmly.

"Good."

Nestling my head in Bill's shoulder, I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He kissed my forehead and smoothed my hair. Lifting my face to his, he ghosted his lips over mine.

"We should go," he said.

"Yeah. What time is it?"

"Uhh..." Bill pulled his phone out of his pocket and unlocked it. "Eleven o' clock."

"Woah. Time flies. I should check mine. My roommate's prolly worried. She thought I was fuckin' with her when I told her we were goin' out."

"She did?"

"Yeah. I haven't told her much o' anythin'. I haven't told anyone shit, as ya prolly saw from my social media accounts. You've been the one who's answered all the questions."

"Yeah."

I fished my phone out of my string bag. I had been keeping it on silent ever since Bill had started tagging me in his Instagram posts because Otis screamed constantly. Unlocking the screen, I discovered I had several text messages from Juno. I scrolled through them quickly.

<_Samara, where are you?_>

<_Okay, you're worrying me!_>

<_Wtf!_>

<_I'm gonna call the precinct and have them trace your phone if you don't answer me!_>

Sighing, I typed a message.

<_Don't get your panties in a wad. I'm fine. I told you I was going out with Bill Moseley._>

I received an instant reply.

"_OMFG! I thought you were fucking around!_>

Snickering, I held up the phone so Bill could see Juno's messages. "See?"

"Oh, my God," he said, laughing. "You should take our picture and send it to her so she'll shut up."

"Okay." I made sure the flash was on. "We might have ta do this a couple times since it's dark."

"Fine by me."

I snapped a few photos. I ended up liking the last one the most. Bill's arm was draped around my shoulders, his fingertips were stroking the bare skin right above the bullet scar on my chest, and he was gazing at me like he was mesmerized. I was looking at the camera, my dark hair sheening and my blue eyes shining from the flash. My lips were red and swollen from making out with Bill. I wasn't smiling, but I didn't look unhappy either.

"I'm sendin' this one," I said.

"I look like a lovesick puppy. I would be lying if I said I wasn't," he admitted. "Send it to me."

Smiling, I turned my head. He surprised me with a juicy kiss. Licking my lips when I pulled back, I typed a message to send with the photo.

<_Nope. Not fucking around. I'll be back when I feel like it. Don't wait up._>

I didn't wait for a reply. I forwarded the photo to Bill and stuffed my phone back in my string bag. 

"Shall we?" I proposed.

"Yeah. You wanna go on the beach now?"

"Yup."

I kicked off my flip flops, picked them up, and shoved them into my bag. Bill took off his shoes and socks, put them inside, and rolled his jeans up to his knees. As we stood up, he grabbed his shoes and laced his fingers with mine. I hoisted my bag onto my back, he led me down onto the beach, and we began the journey back to the burger joint. 

The warm ocean spilled over my bare feet every time a wave hit the shore. The water made it far enough to wash over Bill's feet, who chuckled every time. I think he just liked watching me laugh and enjoy myself.

After a while, I got tired and my leg started hurting again. He ended up carrying me piggyback for the last half a mile. Being all up on him turned me on. I buried my nose in his hair and kissed the back of his neck quite a bit. He welcomed my affection by kissing my hands, which were linked in front of him.

When we arrived at the burger joint, which was closed, we washed our feet on the boardwalk at a foot rinsing station. We put our shoes back on and walked up a side street to get back to the car. 

Before we hopped inside his vehicle, Bill pushed me up against the passenger side and floored me with a powerful kiss. I was speechless for most of the ride home, but that didn't matter because Bill could sing his lungs out. He happily sang along with whatever was on the radio. I was perfectly content with listening to him and watching him while he drove. Our fingers stayed tangled together on top of his thigh the whole way back.


	8. Chapter 8

Bill shut off the car engine and twisted toward me. 

"I'll walk up with you," he offered.

"Okay," I agreed.

We climbed out of his vehicle and shut the doors. He pushed the lock button on his keyring and tucked his keys into his pocket. As we stepped onto the sidewalk, he slid his arm around my shoulders. I closed mine around his waist. 

The short stroll up to my door was quiet. We were lost in our thoughts. I had no idea what Bill was thinking, but I was contemplating whether or not I should ask him to come inside. After what had happened on the boardwalk, I longed to be intimate with him, but I wasn't sure if it was the right move. We had only known each other for a week. I didn't want to lose his respect if we slept together.

My apartment was ground level, and the doorway was poorly lit and surrounded by shrubbery. The inside appeared to be dark, but it was hard to tell because of my thick black curtains. I hoped Juno was in bed.

"Fuck, it's dark as shit. I'm gonna have ta feel around fer my keys," I pouted.

Bill laughed softly. "You're fucking adorable."

I glanced at him and smiled. I had lost count of how many times he had said that.

When we reached the front stoop, he pulled his phone out of his pocket. "Here. I've got a flashlight app. You'll be able to find your keys just fine."

"Thanks, that's a huge help. I have one, too, but I would have had to feel around for my phone."

"Yeah, I know."

Bill unlocked his phone and turned on the flashlight. As I opened my bag, he shined it inside. Spotting my keys, I grabbed them and turned toward the door. He illuminated the door so I could see to unlock it. Once I rotated the bottom lock and shoved my keys back into my bag, he closed the app and pocketed his phone.

"Samara?"

"Yeah?"

I faced him, and he snaked his arms around my waist. I leaned against him and laced my fingers behind his neck. Sighing heavily, he rested his forehead against mine and fixed on my soul. 

"Isn't this the part of the date where we're supposed to kiss?" Bill joked, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

I giggled. "We already did that. Several times, I might add."

"Yeah, well..." He tilted his head and ghosted his mouth over mine.

"You wanna do that again," I murmured.

"Uhh, yup."

Our lips connected in a luscious kiss. Unlinking my hands, I immersed my fingers into his hair and scratched the back of his scalp. My other hand palmed his jaw, my fingers curling around the fuzzy hair and pulling his face closer. 

Bill released a ragged breath and deepened the kiss. His tongue tangled with mine hungrily, his left thumb caressing the small of my back. I melted against his body, my rapid heartbeat matching his as it drummed against my chest.

Smashing my upper back against the door, Bill gently nibbled and suckled my lips. His cock was stiff against my lower belly and growing harder by the second. Sliding his hands over my ass, he squeezed. Then, he glided his left hand down my right thigh, lifted it and curved it around his hip. Kissing down my jaw, he licked the outline of my ear. I shivered and clawed his left shoulder.

_'Oh, my God. I'm gonna fuckin' die,'_ I thought. 

"I wanna feel your skin against mine. I wanna be inside you," he husked, his beard brushing my ear and tickling my skin.

The only reply I could muster was a whiny, "Fuuuuck..."

"It wouldn't be that," he breathed. "Far from it. I like you way too much to just fuck you."

I mewled. Any worries I had about sleeping with him flew right out the window. I was going to take him inside and devour him.

Coasting his hand up my thigh and under my dress, he seized my ass and sucked my earlobe. He thrust his rigid groin into mine insistently, moaning softly. I hissed and dug my fingers into his skull. My pussy clenched and wetness seeped into my already wrecked panties. 

My eyes widened as the doorknob jiggled. "Bill?" I squeaked.

Grunting, he drew my jugular into his mouth and bit down.

"Juno-" 

I screeched as the door flew open and I tumbled backward. Bill reacted quickly by clutching my ass in both hands and flattening my body against his. I clung to his shoulders and steadied my footing.

"Holy shit!" Juno exclaimed. "I thought I heard something!"

"Goddamn it!" I tossed my golden-haired roommate the side-eye. "I almost fell in the fuckin' house!"

She cracked up and clapped her hand over her mouth. She laughed so hard tears streamed down her cheeks. Grimacing, I glanced at Bill, who was not amused in the slightest. He glared at Juno as if he wanted to strangle her. His teeth worked back and forth while he did his best to hold his tongue. He did not appreciate her interruption.

"I'm sorry!" she forced out through her laughter. "I didn't expect you two to be pawing at each other and practically fucking against the front door!"

Bill scowled. Embracing me snugly, he kissed my forehead. I rolled my eyes and closed my arms around his waist. 

"Bill, meet Juno, my loud mouth roommate. Juno, Bill," I grumbled.

"You know Samara's totally in love with you, right?" Juno blurted.

Groaning, I hid my purple face in his shoulder. "Told ya she's nosy and has a big fuckin' mouth. That's why I don't tell her nothin'. She can't keep shit ta herself."

Bill's irritability drained away, his tense muscles relaxing. Chuckling, he smoothed my hair. "I know Samara's level of fangirling is pretty severe. You're not the first person to mention how in love with me she is."

"She's been in love with you for years," Juno added.

"Fuck you, bitch," I snarled, shooting her the look of death. "Why ya gotta mortify me? Just shut the fuck up!"

"Well, it's not like I don't already know," Bill pointed out.

"Aww, come on, Samara. You love me. Don't be mad," Juno pleaded. "He said he already knows. He seems quite pleased, as a matter of fact."

"I actually find it adorable and flattering."

I whirled around and rested my arms on top of Bill's, whose hold tightened. He was probably afraid I was going to punch her. Either that, or he didn't want her to see his semi-hard cock, which was nestled against the top of my ass crack. 

"I do love you, but ya got a big fuckin' mouth. I was hopin' ya'd be in bed. I told ya not ta wait up," I barked.

"I didn't," she insisted meekly, holding up her hands. "Well, not on purpose. I was watching some forensics show on TV and lost track of time. I was bummed you weren't here. You always point out really cool shit."

"Yeah? Well, it's time fer ya ta turn off the TV and go the fuck ta bed," I snapped. 

Her hazel eyes scanned my sour expression. "Oh, you're really pissed."

"Ya think?" I snarked. "You invaded our privacy and embarrassed me. You _always_ find ways ta embarrass the fuck outta me. What's next, huh?"

Bill rubbed his hand over my lower belly and peppered the side of my head with soothing kisses.

"You're right. I'm sorry," Juno said sincerely. "Sometimes I don't think before I talk or act."

She stepped aside. Without asking, I grabbed Bill's hand and tugged him inside. He didn't object. Juno shuffled in behind us and shut and locked the door.

"I'll just turn off the TV and go to bed," she said. 

I crossed my arms and shot Juno the evil eye. She picked up the remote from the couch and pushed the power button. Removing my bag from my shoulder, I tossed it into the armchair. Bill moved behind me and massaged my shoulders, trying his best to work the knots from them.

"Goodnight," she said softly, setting the remote on the coffee table. 

"Night," Bill said cordially. 

I remained silent, my eyes narrowed.

"Good to meet you, Bill."

"I'm sure we'll be seeing a lot more of each other."

Juno nodded. Her shoulders slumped as she padded down the hallway to her bedroom. 

"I think you hurt her feelings, baby," Bill said under his breath once her door closed.

"Well, she shouldn't've humiliated me. She prolly feels guilty. She should."

The fact that he had called me baby did not go unnoticed, but I was too infuriated to comment. 

"Yeah, she probably does feel guilty. Are you sure you're not a Scorpio?" he asked. "Because you just stung the fuck outta her."

I huffed out a laugh. "Told ya I got a bad temper. That was tame. And I told ya I got some Scorpio in my star chart."

"Yeah, you did say those things. I witnessed a tiny peek of your temper just now and last weekend at the con."

"It gits much worse." 

He dug his thumbs into the muscles in the crook of my neck. 

"Gooood, that feels good," I groaned. 

"You're really on edge."

"I'm nervous," I admitted. "I git snippy when I'm anxious."

"I can tell. You said you like massages, right? They help you relax?"

"Mmm, hmm."

"I think that's exactly what you need right now. Why don't you let me help you out?" 

Bill scooped my dark hair over one shoulder and rubbed his thumbs up and down the back of my neck. I moaned and my entire body broke out into goosebumps.

"Do I have ta git naked fer that?" I teased.

"That would be ideal," he murmured. 

Smirking, I turned around. "If I have ta git naked, so do you. It's only fair."

He chuckled softly, his eyes shining. "I think I can handle that."

"Alright. I'm just gonna turn off the light."

Reaching over to the lamp on the end table, I spun the control to the off position. The apartment darkened. Bill, who had no idea where anything was or how to navigate to my bedroom, fumbled for my hand. 

I laced my fingers with his. "C'mon, I'll lead. I know this place like the back o' my hand."

He grunted. I guided him down the hallway and into my bedroom, which was pitch black. I was aware he couldn't see a damn thing, but I didn't want to turn on the main light. 

"Stay here," I ordered, letting go of his hand.

"I couldn't go anywhere if I wanted to. Might trip over something and kill myself," he joked dryly.

I giggled. "Well, we can't have that."

I closed the door and locked it. Heading to my nightstand, I felt around for the switch to my lava lamp and clicked it on. A candy red glow basked the room, and my black furniture and full-sized bed popped into view.

"Hey, that's actually a perfect amount of light," Bill commended from the end of my bed.

"I didn't think bright light would be needed." 

"You were right. We're gonna be naked in front of each other for the first time. Bright light can make that awkward as fuck and kill the mood. Softer light is better for this kinda situation."

"Yup."

Opening my nightstand drawer, I pulled out a bottle of massage oil and sat it down. Closing the drawer, I faced Bill and discovered he had already discarded his shirt. He was holding it in his hand. 

Biting my lip, I eyeballed his upper body. I already knew he was lean and had defined pecs and abs, but his arms and shoulders were slightly meatier than they were in the last shirtless photo I had seen of him, which had been a few weeks back. 

Just like in his films, he didn't have a lot of hair on his chest or much of a happy trail. I was willing to bet money he didn't have an abundant amount of pubes, either. What was surprising was the only gray hair he had was his facial hair and a smattering in his temple area. The hair on his head and upper body were still completely dark. I wondered if his pubes were the same.

"Tell me somethin'. How the fuck are you 67 years old?" I marveled. "Did ya find the fountain o' youth or sell yer soul or some shit?"

Bill laughed. "No, I just take care of myself. I eat right, exercise, and work out, but you probably already know that."

"Yeah." I sauntered toward him.

"I feel like you already know everything about me."

"I'm sure there are things I don't know; things you don't tell the public." I stopped in front of him. "You can drop yer shirt on the floor."

He complied. "Is that massage oil on your nightstand?"

"Mmm, hmm. It's edible. Cherry flavored."

Bill smirked. "That makes things a lot easier."

Gulping, I expelled a heavy breath. I raised a hand to touch him, but he grasped my wrist before I made contact.

"Baby, you're shaking," he said, his eyes holding concern.

"Told ya I'm nervous."

"I'm gonna take care of that," he promised. "The best way to do that is to start at the top of your body and make my way down. Don't worry about me until you're more comfortable."

I nodded. He laid my hand over his heart, and I rested my other hand on his waist. His skin was warm and firm with muscle, his heart pumping away strongly. 

Bill gathered my face in his hands, tilted his head slightly, and kissed me softly. Using two fingers from each hand, he simultaneously and gently pressed into my temples for several seconds. Then, he slowly glided his fingers down my cheeks at the same time, making tiny circular motions. When he reached my jaw, he grazed my lips with one index finger. They tingled and ached for more contact.

As anxious as I was, I couldn't tear my eyes from Bill's intense stare. Without thinking, I kissed his fingertip. His breath hitched as the tip of my tongue barely touched him.

"Keep doing that, and I'll force you on your knees," he warned, a dominant glint in his eyes.

I giggled. "I wouldn't say no."

Cracking a smile, he gave me a tender kiss and traced rings around my Adam's apple with wide, fluid motions. Kissing down my jaw to the crook of my neck, he angled my face toward the ceiling and brushed his lips along the hollow of my throat. He stimulated the area with his tongue via soft, wide circles.

I sucked in a breath. No man had ever done that to me before. It was a completely new and erotic sensation, and his facial hair only increased it.

"You like that?" Bill murmured.

"Mmm, hmm."

He stayed in that area for a little longer, my labored breaths increasing in pace. Next, he gently squeezed and pulled my earlobe with his thumb and forefinger and used the tip of his tongue to lightly trace the C-shaped outer edge of my ear. He did the same thing to the opposite side. Moaning softly, I dug my fingertips into the fleshy part of his chest.

Bill pulled back and gazed into my soul. "Lemme see your hands."

I dropped them to my sides. He slid his hands down my arms and delicately massaged the inner section of my palms, then circled the outer palms with the pads of his fingers and slowly made his way to the center. Next, he ran his fingertips up and down the edge of my pinkies, where they connected to my hand.

"That's different," I whispered, mesmerized by his shimmering eye contact. "It's nice."

He nodded. "Time to get undressed so I can give you a proper massage."

To be continued!


	9. Chapter 9

Bill drug the straps to my sundress off my shoulders. My dress slipped down easily, exposing some of my cleavage. Kneading my shoulders gently, he moistened his lips and kissed me sweetly.

As I freed my arms from the straps, my sundress cascaded down my body and piled around my feet. Stepping out of my flipflops and dress, I kicked them aside. I thought I would feel vulnerable being nude in front of him for the first time, but I didn't. It felt natural, as if I was supposed to be unclothed around him.

Breaking the kiss, Bill reared back to admire my naked upper body. His eyes sparkled, his tongue snaking over his lips. Grasping my wrists, he hooked my fingers into the hem of his jeans.

"Take off my pants," he demanded.

As I gripped his belt buckle, he captured my lips in a passionate kiss. Clutching my hip, he slid his other hand around to my backside.

"You ever heard of the sacrum?" he murmured against my mouth, our breaths mingling together.

"Umm..." Staring into his eyes, I worked his belt open, then his jeans. "Yeah. I learned 'bout it when I had that brief transfer ta homicide. It's a flat triangular bone with little holes at the base o' the spine directly b'tween the hips."

"Uhh, huh. It's jam-packed with nerve endings."

"Oh. Well, I didn't know that part."

I pushed Bill's jeans over his slender hips and they dropped to the floor. I peeked at his groin, which was fully hard and straining against his tighty whities. He was well endowed, but I was aware of that from the millions of times I had watched _The Devil's Rejects_. At the beginning of the film, Otis Driftwood is in bed with a corpse in his underwear.

Bill massaged my sacrum with his palm. Heat generated and spread up my backside immediately.

"Oh!" I cried softly, my eyebrows raising.

Smirking, he firmly pressed his fingertips into the base of my spine and cruised upward. He repeated the motion a few times before ordering me to turn around. Slowly, he tapped two fingers from my naval to the hem of my panties. Next, he circled my belly button with his fingertips, widening the rings as he moved toward my outer abdomen. He adjusted his speed and pressure so he didn't tickle me and was extra careful around my bullet scar.

Closing my eyes, I sighed and lolled my head against Bill's shoulder.

"Yeah, just relax," he said under his breath. "Just breathe."

I took a deep breath and let it out, but ended up inhaling more air as he nibbled on my jaw. He cupped and squeezed my breasts, his thumbs prodding my stiff nipples. Stepping closer, he pushed his erection into the curve of my ass. A tiny moan escaped him. Seizing one of his hands, I tugged it toward my mouth.

Extending his index finger, I licked the tip. Bill growled and bit down on the crook of my neck. I mewled and sucked his finger between my lips. His other hand abandoned my breast and wrenched my panties down my thighs, then he shoved his own drawers down. I swirled my tongue around his finger, my mouth gliding down to his knuckle and back up to the tip.

"Christ," he husked. "Do you suck dick like that?"

"Mmm, hmm."

"Fuuuck," Bill groaned.

He suckled the spot under my ear just hard enough to leave a mark. I let his finger pop out of my mouth and kissed the tip.

"You branded me," I muttered.

"Yeah, and I'm gonna do it several more times," he declared.

I wasn't sure how to respond to that. Bill wanted people to know I belonged to him. Technically, if we were going to sleep together, he had the right to claim me. I sure as hell wasn't going to fuck anyone else; not when I had the man of my dreams right here in my bedroom.

"You got a problem with that? Because if you do, you need to tell me _now_."

"No," I assured.

"Good. Lay on your stomach," Bill commanded.

I didn't argue and stepped out of my panties. Crawling on my bed, I flopped onto my belly and rested my arms at my sides. A sharp crack to my ass made me cry out. It jiggled, and he squeezed my ass cheek. He repeated the motion on the other side. Squeaking, I squirmed. Spanking was a turn-on of mine.

"That's what you get for being a tease."

I giggled. "I'm not sorry."

He chuckled. "I have a feeling you can be a real fucking brat when you wanna be."

I snickered but kept my lips zipped. I could definitely be a bit of a brat if it meant I got a spanking out of it. However, I was unsure if I should tell him what my kinks were just yet.

Bill toed off his shoes, removed his bottom layer of clothing, and straddled my upper thighs. We were both completely naked. He reached for the massage oil and squirted some into his palm. Closing the lid, he dropped it onto the bed for when he needed more. After moving my hair out of his way, he rubbed his hands together and massaged my shoulders. He kneaded the muscles like dough, digging into all my knots like a professional masseuse.

"Oh, my God," I moaned.

"Yeah, you definitely needed this. You're wound up tighter than a two-dollar watch."

"Mmm, hmm."

As he leaned down to kiss the back of my neck, his cock and fuzzy balls brushed my ass.

"Are ya gray down there?" I blurted.

"Huh?"

"Ya know. B'tween yer legs."

"Oh." Bill laughed softly. "Some. Not completely. More like salt and pepper."

I smiled. "Hmph. Sounds sexy."

"You'll see soon enough."

"Indeed, I will."

Bill kissed down my spine, the heels of his hands rubbing down the sides of my back. I shivered every time his mouth touched me. The further down he roamed, the more his knees walked backward. His cock left a wet trail of precum on my ass and left thigh.

He took a quick break to squeeze more oil into his hand, then worked on my lower back. Again, he used his palm to stimulate my sacrum. More heat radiated up my backside, but this time my gut was affected as well. My clit tingled, and my pussy thumped and ached to be filled.

Next, he slathered oil over my ass. I hummed with pleasure. I loved having my ass touched. Pangs shot to all the right places. I made a mental note to tell him that if he wanted to get me in the mood easily, all he had to do was play with my ass. Another way to do that was to pay attention to my tits at the same time.

Bill slid his slippery hands up and down the backs of my thighs, then lightly scratched the backs of my knees. I giggled, but I didn't tell him to stop.

"You ever had a man kiss you here?" he wanted to know.

"The backs of my knees? No."

"That changes tonight. The skin is thin and has extra-sensitive nerve endings. It can tickle. Tell me if it's too much."

"Okay."

Bending over, Bill brushed his mouth over the backs of both of my knees. His facial hair increased the sensation. Gasping, I squirmed, but I settled down once he moved his tongue back and forth in circles across each crevice.

"That's...umm...interesting," I mumbled. "It was almost too much until you used your tongue."

"It's good, though, right?"

"Yeah."

He licked up my right thigh and gently bit my ass cheek. I squeaked. Chuckling, he took a bite out of the other side.

"My God, your ass is like a juicy apple," Bill marveled. "And this massage oil actually tastes good. I thought it would have a fake cherry taste, but it's like a piece of hard candy, like a Jolly Rancher or something."

"Mmm, hmm."

He ran the tip of his tongue from the top of my ass crack to my sacrum. He stimulated that spot with his mouth, making me moan softly. 

"How thin are the walls in this place?" he asked, his breath ghosting up my spine.

"Uhh, I really dunno. Juno's single. She hasn't been with anyone since she moved in."

"Just trying to figure out how much noise we can make."

"Prolly best ta stay on the quiet side," I advised.

Bill grunted. Digging the heels of his hands into my back, he worked his way up until he reached my shoulders. He kneaded them for a bit before moving to the back of my neck again.

"You're feeling pretty loose now," he said. "The oil has soaked in pretty well, too."

"It's s'pposed to. I feel a lot better."

"I still gotta do your frontside. Turn over."

"Alright."

He straightened up and I flipped over. He stared down at my naked body, his eyes twinkling with lust. I finally got a good look at his cock. Just like he had said, his pubes were salt and pepper colored. He was large but not super thick, which I was grateful for. I hadn't had a man inside of me in years, and I didn't want to be in any pain. He was going to feel superb once we got to the main course. 

Bill smirked and squeezed more oil into his palm. "This is gonna be the fun part."

"Yeah?" I smiled coyly. "Why's that?"

"Because I get to play with your tits," he admitted, his smile widening.

I laughed and inched my hands up his thighs, which were just as strong and lean as the rest of him. The hair on his legs was just as dark as the hair on his head. His cock responded to my touch instantly, twitching and oozing pre-cum.

Bill closed his hands around my forearms and slid them to my upper arms, where he gently manipulated the muscles. Once he was satisfied with his work, he delicately pushed my arms toward the bed. I got the hint and rested them at my sides. Scooting up, he gripped my shoulders and kneaded, his thumbs rubbing my neck. He switched to my throat and caressed, then brushed over my collar bones.

He was concentrating on what he was doing, but I was watching all his muscles ripple and spasm. I couldn't wait to touch him. What I really wanted to do was blow him.

"What do you like during sex?" he asked.

I lifted my eyes from his chest to his face. His blue orbs shined like mirrors in the red glow of my bedroom. Just as I was about to speak, he slithered his hands down to my tits and oiled them up. My jaw dropped open, and my nipples immediately stiffened into bullets under his palms. My back arched, my chest pushing into his hands. Cupping my breasts, he prodded my nipples with his thumbs.

"Oh, it has been way too long since you've been touched. You are _starved_," Bill stated.

"Uhh, huh."

"I think I'm gonna leave those alone and come back to them later," he decided.

"Noooo," I whined as his hands drifted to my abdomen and rotated in clockwise circles.

"I promise I'll come back to them. If I don't leave them alone, I'll end up inside you before I'm finished." 

"Oh, okay." I could understand that.

He traced my bottom ribs with his thumbs, then dropped to the curve of my hips and repeated the action. "I never got an answer to my question. What do you like during sex? Do you like it slow and soft? Hard and rough?"

"Umm...both. Maybe a combo. Like, start out soft and slow and end up hard and rough."

"I know you like biting because I did a little of that already." Bill scooted down so he could massage my thighs.

"Yeah."

"You like your ass touched, too. And your tits are really sensitive," he observed. "That much is obvious."

"Mmm, hmm." I bit my lip. "You wanna git me in the mood real quick? Focus on those."

Grinning, he stopped at my knees. "I would go lower, but I don't wanna touch your feet or anywhere near there. There's probably sandy residue. I plan on touching your pussy, and well...sand and pussy don't mix."

"No, they don't," I agreed.

Bill got on all fours and hovered over top of me. Leaning down, he gave me a juicy kiss. I brushed his hair from his forehead, but it didn't help. His hair just fell back into the same spot.

Smiling, I stroked his beard and kissed him again. He pushed his tongue into my mouth, braced his weight on his right elbow, and made due on his promise. His left hand squeezed and rubbed my tits equally, his fingers pinching and twisting my nipples expertly.

My nails scraped his scalp, and he released a shuddery sigh. I sucked on the tip of his tongue and his lips before kissing down his jaw. He shivered as I drew his earlobe between my lips and moistened it with my tongue.

"You got protection?" I whispered. "Cuz I don't. I've been abstinent for God knows how long."

Bill turned his head to look at me. His pupils were blown. Lust was evident, but there was so much more behind the scenes. Patience, warmth, kindness, intimacy, curiosity, determination, and dominance. The sexual chemistry between us was so thick, it could be cut with a knife.

"No." He shook his head. "I didn't expect this to happen. As long as you're clean, I don't care. It's not like you can get pregnant. If you could, I might be freaking the fuck out right now. I'm too old for more kids. That shows you how much I like you because protection didn't even cross my mind."

I grinned. "I'm clean."

"Good. So am I. Nothing to worry about, then."

"I never finished tellin' ya what I like in bed."

"I just figured you were too shy to tell me right now and I'd find out on my own."

"I'll tell ya." I hesitated momentarily. "Just don't laugh at me."

Bill's eyebrows furrowed. "Why would I do that?"

I shrugged.

"Man, you really have been with some assholes." He kissed my forehead. "I'm not gonna laugh. I take this kinda shit very seriously. Tell me."

"Okay." I exhaled shakily. "I like ta submit, ta please and worship my partner. I like ta be dominated. I like light bondage, spankings, roleplayin'...umm..." 

I chewed my lip. My stomach somersaulted several times as I awaited his reaction.

Bill's eyes darkened. "So you're into a little BDSM. I can't say I'm surprised since you write about that in your fanfiction. That's good because I like to be in control. Do you like pain?"

"A little, not a lot."

"I guess the biting and spanking covers that."

I nodded. "I like my hair pulled, too, and I like gittin' choked."

He smirked. "Humiliation?"

"That's not really my thing."

"Oh, you are _way_ too good to be true."

"Really?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah! I'm good with _all_ of that."

I blew out a puff of air. "Well, that's a relief. I'm used ta bein' fucked with over that shit."

"Fuck those assholes," he grumbled. "People who fuck with their partners over their sexual preferences are insecure. It's fine to not like the same things, but to ridicule someone is immature and petty."

"Yer right. It _is_ immature and petty, and it makes people feel like shit."

"Which is something no partner should do."

Dropping the conversation, Bill scooted down and left wet kisses across my chest. Cupping both tits, he closed his mouth around a nipple and sucked. I gasped and threaded my fingers through his hair. His tongue swirled around the sensitive bud, making my back arch.

"Use yer teeth," I instructed.

He bit lightly and tugged. I glanced into his scorching blue eyes and about lost my mind.

"Fuuuck..." I moaned, my pussy aching.

He soothed my nipple with his tongue, then kissed between my breasts and switched to the other side. By the time he was finished cherishing my chest, I was a writhing mess and had marks on both sides and in between.

Bill shimmied down, kissing a line from the brand in the middle of my breasts down to my navel. Running his fingertips up and down my sides, he dipped his tongue inside my belly button and sucked. I was torn about what to do. I wanted to blow him, but I also wanted him to eat my pussy.

"Ohhh," I whined, combing his hair back.

"What?" he murmured, licking down to the top of my mound. "Got something on your mind?"

"Yeah, oral sex," I blurted, squirming from the feeling of his beard on my skin. "I want it, but I also want yer cock in my mouth."

Bill lifted his head, one eyebrow raised. "Wow, that's _hot_. To be honest, my knees could use a break. Why don't you give first, then I'll reciprocate? That way if I cum, and I probably will, I'll be ready to go after I eat dessert." He rolled over onto his back, his cock sticking straight up into the air. "I mean, how could I _not_ cum? You're fucking beautiful in every way, and you already had my finger in your mouth. If you suck dick like you sucked on my finger, I'm a goner."

We laughed softly. I sat up, turned, and placed my knees on each side of his waist. Bracing my hands on his chest, I leaned down for a quick kiss. After straightening up, I rubbed my wet pussy lips against his hard shaft.

"Ohhh..." I moaned, my head rolling back.

"Oh, fuck. I'm definitely a goner," Bill muttered, clutching my hips. "You're soaked."

"Uhh, huh."

Brushing his hair from his forehead, I stole another kiss. He moaned softly and twisted his tongue with mine. Ending the kiss, I sat up, grabbed the massage oil, and squeezed some into my hands.

Bill watched with great interest as I rubbed my hands together. His hands ran down my thighs as I shifted lower and smeared the oil over his chest and abs.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his tone inquisitive.

"Makin' ya slippery fer later," I explained, examining his muscles under my hands.

"Oh." He chuckled. "Sorta like being all soapy in the shower together."

"Exactly. Two bodies slidin' t'gether feels fuckin' amazin'."

"Would you let me fuck you in the shower?"

"Hell yeah."

"Oh, my God! I'm gonna do that as soon as possible!" he insisted.

Giggling, I dropped further down and nudged Bill's legs open with my knee. He got the hint and opened his thighs. Lying on my stomach, I hooked my left arm under his thigh so I could pull him closer when I needed to and traced his hip line with my fingertips. Gripping his shaft with my right hand, I lubed it up with the leftover oil on my palm to get rid of the taste of my pussy.

I quickly studied what I was dealing with. Bill was one of the few men I had been intimate with who had a pretty cock. It was long and nicely shaped. It was the epitome of the perfect cock, and his balls weren't overly hairy, which was nice if I decided I wanted to suck one into my mouth. 

I glanced up to find him staring at me intensely. My nerves flared abruptly. It had been years since I had a dick in my mouth. What if I was rusty and had forgotten how to pleasure a man? What if he didn't like my techniques?

_'Stop, just relax. He's gonna like it, and he's gonna watch. Might as well git used ta that,' _I thought.

Closing my eyes, I cleared my mind and focused on the sexual energy which radiated off of Bill. I inhaled his scent, which was quite intoxicating, and licked up the seam of his ball sack from the lowest point, continuing all the way up his shaft to the tip of his cock.

Opening my eyes, I looked up into Bill's. His chest was rising and falling quickly, his right fist curled around the blanket in anticipation. Maintaining eye contact, I repeated the same lick up his shaft nine or ten times. As I zeroed in on the tip for some affection, he gritted his teeth and grabbed a handful of my hair.

"Oh, fuck," he forced through his teeth, glancing at the ceiling. "I'm in major trouble."

Pre-cum leaked from the tip, but I ignored it and flicked the strip of skin on the underside where the head meets the shaft with the tip of my tongue, then fluttered over it quickly.

Anxious thoughts began to creep back into my mind. To get rid of them, I focused on how satiny-smooth Bill's cock was against my tongue. He was speechless, but his breathing was labored.

_'I'm doin' that. He can't talk or breathe correctly cuz o' what I'm doin' to 'im,'_ I told myself proudly.

As I sucked the head between my lips, Bill groaned and his whole body trembled. His hand tightened around my hair instantly. Humming lowly, I engulfed him further into my mouth and bobbed up and down. I jerked the bottom part of his shaft, meeting my fingers with my lips. He hissed and wriggled, and I curled my arm around his hip tightly and held him firmly in place so he couldn't wrestle away.

"Samara," he moaned softly.

Caressing his hip line, I looked up at him through my eyelashes. "Hmm?"

"You like this, don't you?" It was more of a statement than a question.

"Mmm, hmm."

Removing my hand from his shaft, I placed it over his, which was still fisted in my hair. I gave his hand a few tugs, telling him without words he could control my movements if he desired.

Bill shoved my mouth down a little further and rocked his hips. I hummed my approval and began to jerk his shaft again. I allowed the tip of his cock to rub the ridges on the roof of my mouth, giving him extra pleasure.

"Oh, my God," he moaned.

Slobber dribbled down my chin, but I didn't care. Getting messy was part of the fun, and it was extra lube.

Relaxing my gag reflex as much as possible, I sucked the head into my throat. Hollowing my cheeks, I moved up a little and plunged back down. I polished the head, and Bill released the blanket and clapped his hand over his mouth as a loud whimper came out of him.

His cock swelled in my mouth, threatening to erupt. I proceeded to suck without a care in the world. I wanted to taste his seed, swallow it, and claim it as mine. His thrusts turned erratic, his hand yanking my hair and pushing on my head as he chased after his orgasm.

After a few seconds, Bill's back arched, his cock pulsed, and his juices drained down my throat. Watching through my eyelashes as he bit his lip to keep from moaning, I greedily gulped his load. I slowed my fist, but I didn't completely stop jerking. His hips ceased movement, but he continued pushing on my head. I sucked until I was positive his balls were emptied.

Once his climax ebbed away, he flattened his hand on my head and smoothed my hair. I carefully detached my mouth from his cock and licked him clean. He gazed down at me with adoration as I kissed the crooks of his legs. I marked his inner thigh before scooting up and kissing over his hips and abs. Advancing up even more, I rubbed over his slippery upper body with my own and left open-mouthed kisses over his chest.

Bill caught his breath while I smooched up to his neck. Deciding I wanted him to be mine, I marked him right under his ear. He didn't object. As I hugged his body with mine and nestled my head against his shoulder, he wrapped his arms around me.

"You made my toes curl. I just want you to know that," he mumbled. "You swallowed my cum and enjoyed it. That made me feel like I won the fucking lottery."

I kissed his scruffy jaw. "I wanted to."

Bill sighed blissfully and stroked my hair. Pushing up on my elbows, I brushed his hair off his forehead. Those intense blue eyes of his gazed into my soul, and my heart fluttered. 

_'Oh, man. I am absolutely fucked,'_ I thought frantically, my eyes widening slightly.

Whether I wanted to or not, I was falling in love and there was no going back. I couldn't stop myself from tumbling off that terrifying cliff if I wanted to, and it had only been a week.

Sensing my apprehension, Bill grabbed the back of my neck. Even though I had just gone down on him, he gave me an intimate kiss. Rolling us over, he deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring the inside of my mouth. Caressing my jaw, he nuzzled my lips. We opened our eyes at the same time. 

"I can see your fear. I'm not gonna hurt you," he promised softly. "You've got to trust me when I tell you that. I know that's a hard thing for you to do, but you'll see in time that I only wanna make you happy." 

Gulping, I nodded and fingered his beard. "You've had yer heart broken recently. Aren't you scared?"

"You would think I would be, but I'm not." Bill's eyes held no lie. "You entered my life when I needed help. As a matter of fact, you came around when I needed someone to make me feel again. I was numb and empty inside and you made that go away. I'm alive in more ways than one because of you. You're my superhero in every sense of the word."

I smiled, my heart melting. "Maybe we're s'pposed ta help each other," I contemplated. "Maybe yer the one who's gonna teach me how ta trust again."

"I told you. Everything happens for a reason. Whatever's happening between us is supposed to happen. Don't be afraid. Don't fight it. Just go with it and embrace it."

"Okay."

"I want you to think about this for a second," Bill added. "Talking to each other, being around each other, touching each other...it all feels natural. We're naked in front of each other for the first time and there's nothing weird or awkward about it. You haven't been embarrassed one time since we walked into your bedroom. You told me what you liked in bed and didn't blush. It's supposed to be this way. We were supposed to find each other. It's not a coincidence."

Pondering what he had said, I nuzzled his scruffy face. "Reckon yer right," I said softly. 

"I know I'm right," he said matter-of-factly. "I've never been so sure of anything in my entire life."

We kissed tenderly. Glancing between our bodies, Bill slid a finger between my pussy lips. My jaw dropped open as he circled my clit with his glazed finger. Chuckling, he pushed my mouth closed.

"Let's talk about this later. I got pussy to eat."

\--------------------

To be continued!


	10. Chapter 10

Bill inched down my body, kissing and sucking his way towards my pussy. He paid extra special attention to my tits, teasing and biting my nipples. Placing an open-mouthed kiss on my sternum, he scooted down and left another smooch on my lower belly. Finally, he kissed over my mound. 

I was incredibly hot for him. Every nerve in my body and brain were electrified. The earlier massage he had bestowed upon me and the blow job I had given him were simply evil foreplay. I had been dreaming about him for 16 years, and he was about to go down on me. Feeling like I was in a vivid erotic dream couldn't have been a more accurate description for my encounter.

Bill gently nudged my thighs open. He kissed up one, then the other. As he ran his tongue up and down the crooks of my thighs and suckled my sensitive skin, I moaned. His beard brushed over my flesh with every move he made. He kissed a circle around my clit several times just to torment me. Becoming frustrated, I huffed and pushed on his head. His mouth was everywhere but where I wanted it to be. 

"Tell me what you want, Samara," Bill husked. "I wanna hear it."

"Taste me," I begged."_Please._" 

He sucked on one of my puffy lips, making long licks along my slit before delving his tongue into the velvety depths of my pussy. My hips jerked against his mouth and a breathy sigh escaped me. 

"Christ, you taste like a God damn pear," he marveled.

Bill glimpsed at me, his eyes shining with wonder. I couldn't speak because staring into his powerful blue eyes was almost too much to bear. All I could muster was a soft purr.

His right hand trailed up my thigh, leaving goosebumps behind. Shoving his hand underneath, he grasped my ass cheek. His dominant hand coasted down my other thigh, his fingers reaching for my pussy lips and carefully spreading them open for his exploring tongue. He hadn't touched my clit one time, and I was dying of anticipation.

"Bill..." I whined.

He hummed his reply. The vibrations combined with his skillful tongue caused me to tremble and see stars. I threaded my hands into his hair and ground my pussy into his warm, wet mouth.

Snickering, he asked, "Is there something you want, honey?"

"My clit. God, please, Bill."

"Tell me what you want."

"Fer fuck's sake, suck it," I pleaded.

Bill closed his mouth around my clit and drew it between his lips. His tongue lapped slowly, and my pussy clenched. An inferno coiled in my lower belly, tightening my body like a bow.

"Just like that. Oh, fuck. Please don't stop," I moaned.

I gripped his hair tightly, my short nails digging into my palms. I had to tear my gaze from his so I wouldn't cum.

Detaching from my clit, Bill said, "Oh, no. You look at _me_, Samara."

"I can't," I mewled. "It's too much. I'll cum."

"You can and you _will_," he demanded. "Who cares if you cum? I'll make you cum again."

Nodding, I willed myself to maintain eye contact with him. Bill resumed sucking on my clit, swirling his tongue around it. Dipping two fingers inside of my aching hole, he inspected my insides until he located my g-spot. I squeaked when he touched it, making him chuckle. He massaged it while he savored my clit, and I knew it was only a matter of time before I exploded. He sensed I was close to cumming and worked my body as slowly as possible, doing his best to coax a long orgasm out of me.

Letting go of my ass, Bill used a feather touch on my thigh, the crook of my leg, and my belly. Occasionally, he reached up to squeeze a titty and pinch a nipple. Sucking harder on my clit, he ran his tongue back and forth over the tiny bundle of nerves. My back arched, pressure building in my gut. Groaning, I smashed his face into my eager pussy.

Detecting I was inching closer to climax, he unfastened his mouth from my clit. Whining, I focused on his mouth as he sucked and bit my thighs. He continued to rub my g-spot while he branded the crooks of my legs. His nose bumped my clit as he licked around my sopping wet lips, and his beard caressed my flesh until I was a writhing mess. 

"Please," I implored softly.

Bill's eyes bounced to mine, holding dominance. "Please _what_?"

"Make me cum."

Nodding, Bill returned to my clit and increased the pressure on my g-spot. He sounded like he was eating a plate of ribs. He slurped and smacked to his heart's content, acting like my pussy was the most scrumptious entree he had ever tasted. I squeezed my eyes shut as my impending orgasm barrelled down upon me.

His fingertips flicked my g-spot just right, and I came undone. My pussy tingled and spasmed, my eyes rolled back, and my mouth gaped in a silent wail. Pleasure washed through my body in waves, juices squirting out of me and onto his hand. He withdrew his mouth from my clit and his fingers from my crevice, sucking them clean.

Bill leaned in to lick up the mess he had made. Too sensitive for any kind of stimulation, I squirmed, but he gripped my thighs from underneath and held my pussy to his mouth. He drank my juices, his thick tongue swiping at my dripping slit to make sure he didn't leave any of my essence behind. As I descended from my orgasmic high, all that remained of me was a boneless being.

I glanced down at Bill, who tilted his head. He gazed up at me, amusement and arousal clear in his eyes. 

"Samara," he lisped, my name sounding erotic on his tongue.

"Hmm?"

"Your hands." 

Grinning, I released my hold on his hair and dropped a hand down to cup his scruffy face. "That was fuckin' incredible," I breathed.

"That was just the beginning," Bill promised, wiping over his damp face and beard. "I can do that for hours. I can bring you to the brink of climax and back off again and again until I feel like making you cum. I didn't do that tonight because you needed to get off."

"Jesus," I mumbled, settling my head further into the pillow.

Smirking, he crawled up the bed and hovered over top of me. Resting an elbow next to my head, he ghosted his lips over mine and stroked my hair. He twirled a lock in his fingertips, relishing the softness, watching it tumble as he released it. His hand moved down my cheekbone to my lips, his fingertip caressing them ever so slightly before he delivered a petal-soft kiss.

I angled my hips so his steel hard cock was positioned at my entrance. He gripped his shaft and rubbed my slit with the head. My nerves decided to flare up just as he was about to enter me. 

"Bill?" I murmured, my heart hammering.

"Yeah?" 

"Listen." I immersed my fingers into the hair on the back of his neck. "I don't do this. I never have sex on the first date, but yer special. I don't want ya ta think-"

"Samara, we talked about this," he whispered. "I don't think anything bad. Tell your anxiety to fuck off." 

"Okay, alright." I took a deep breath. "Please don't lose respect-"

"Baby, stop. I told you I'm picky about who I sleep with. Sex is a sacred thing to me. What we're doing is creating a bond. It's bringing us closer together," Bill assured.

Nodding, I chewed my lip.

"By the time I'm finished with you, you won't be able to walk in a straight line," he swore.

Bill stared into my eyes as he slid inside me to the hilt in one smooth action. He filled me up and stretched me so well, my mouth dropped open and I almost came again. Our bodies fit together as if we were made to make love to one another.

"Oh, fuuuck," I moaned, wrapping my arm around his backside.

Groaning, he kissed over my face. At first, his pace was slow and steady, but I craved more. He was aware and wanted to give that to me. Once I adjusted to his large size, he kissed me deeply and picked up the tempo. I tasted my own juices on his tongue and didn't have a care in the world. I lasted through maybe a dozen more rhythmic strokes before another climax overwhelmed me.

"Oh, God," I whimpered against his lips. 

"Fuck," Bill growled, his face scrunching. 

Somehow, he hung on through the throbbing of my inner walls and kept pumping. Once my orgasm ebbed away, I opened my eyes and our souls locked. He increased his speed yet again, snapping his hips. He was brick hard inside me, and his whole body vibrated with passion. 

The way Bill's cock massaged my insides was magical and unlike anything I had ever endured before. He was right. Our union was supposed to happen. The spiritual connection we had was remarkable.

Raising a knee, I curled it around his hip. He curved his arm around it, holding it to his body. Lifting his thigh, he pressed it against my ass and rocked his hips even harder. 

"Oh, yes," I moaned.

Bill drowned me out with a sensual kiss. Our skin slipped together because of the massage oil, which stimulated my stiff nipples. His heartbeat drummed against my own, his chest heaving with every ragged breath he took. Kissing down my jaw, he sucked on my neck, leaving more tiny love bites. I hummed as his teeth scraped my collarbone. 

"You feel so good,"I purred. 

"So do you, baby," Bill mumbled against my ear, his beard tickling my skin.

His quiet grunts of pleasure were a powerful turn-on. They were so intimate and for my ears only. His face was incredibly expressive, but I was positive mine mirrored his. He was sexier than I had ever seen him, and I wanted him to enjoy every second of our merge as much as I was. 

I acknowledged every thrust of his hips with a soft mewing sigh and a squeeze of my fingers on his backside. My short nails scraped his scalp, making his already trembling body shudder even more. As he kissed up my jaw to my mouth, his cock swelled inside me.

"Shit..." Bill ceased all movement, holding back his nut.

"G'head," I urged against his lips.

He gritted his teeth, a determined glint in his eye. "No fucking way. I wanna make you cum again."

He plunged his tongue into my mouth, twisting it with mine, and we kissed with raw intensity. After a minute, he began to move steadily, pulling almost all the way out and pushing back in down to his balls. I met him thrust for thrust, longing for us to cum together.

"Don't stop," I begged as his cock brushed my g-spot over and over.

"I won't." 

Bill raised up on his elbows, driving into me even deeper. He caressed my breasts, grazing my nipples. His other hand tweaked my clit. His fingers were like divine fire for my soul, his grunts intoxicating in all the finest of ways. My hips increased their pace, and he followed suit, matching my rhythm. I was glad I didn't have a headboard because it would have banged against the wall.

My pussy clenched as flames engulfed my loins, and I gasped softly. "Fuck...I'm cumming." 

"Oh, my God. Fuck yessss," he said under his breath, studying my contorted face.

My back arched and my insides clamped down on his cock, surges of bliss rippling through my body. I couldn't help clawing his scalp and the lower part of his back. I almost sobbed because my release was so strong. Somehow, I managed to hold back my tears.

Bill's cock swelled and throbbed, and his body stiffened as his balls emptied deep inside me. Groaning, he squeezed his eyes shut and sunk his tongue into my mouth to drown out our sounds of pleasure.

Once our climaxes dwindled, he withdrew his cock from my pussy. Dropping his weight on top of me, he rested his head on the pillow next to mine. I turned my head, and we stared at each other. Both of us were panting and quaking, and we were drenched in sweat from working together. I wiped some from his forehead and pushed his damp hair back. Stroking his fuzzy beard, I breathed in the smell of his natural pheromones, which were musky and sweet at the same time. The scent of the cherry massage oil hung in the air around us. 

"You're so fucking beautiful," Bill complimented genuinely. "Your face when you get off, that's probably the hottest thing I've ever seen in my entire life."

"Yer pretty hot yerself," I insisted, cradling his entire body in a loving embrace.

"You feel like the softest silk around my dick. Except for when you lock down on me. I've never had a woman cum that hard before. I was lucky I didn't blow my wad the first time."

"You felt so good inside me, so deep. I wasn't sure what sex would feel like after my hysterectomy, if it would change or not. It did change, but it made it better."

"The sex will only improve," he promised. "Now that I've seen your belly up close, those tiny scars are barely noticeable."

"It was so good, I almost cried."

"I saw that." Bill chuckled. "I'm actually pretty proud of that."

I giggled. "We're so sweaty and sticky."

"I don't give one single fuck," he claimed, smoothing my hair.

"Me either."

Bill rolled us onto our sides. Our bodies intertwined, our lips meeting in a gentle kiss. Caressing my cheek, he tucked my hair behind my ear.

"You're mine now. You know that, right? After what we just did, there's no more of that dating shit. I'm gonna start calling you my girlfriend."

"I know. I marked ya fer a reason."

"Good. That's why I did it, too; to show the world you belong to me."

"We b'long to each other."

I smiled. Bill returned it, his crooked tooth showing. I pressed my mouth to his without closing my eyes. Running the tip of my tongue over his front teeth, I wiggled it inside the gap. He closed his mouth around my tongue and sucked gently, laughing under his breath.

"Never had a woman kiss me with her eyes open or pay attention to the gap in my teeth," he admitted. "It's erotic."

"Yer crooked front tooth is incredibly attractive. I like yer crooked nose, too," I confessed, rubbing mine against it. 

Bill found that hard to believe. "Really? You like my imperfections?" 

"Yeah, but they're not imperfections. At least, not in my eyes. I think yer fuckin' gorgeous; always have. But I gotta say, it was yer blue eyes that hooked me. They're beautiful and super intense. They hold tons of emotion. House Otis is where my physical attraction ta you started. He was oddly beautiful with his white skin and reddish-brown eyes, but it was Rejects Otis who wrapped me around his finger. Once I saw that film, I was addicted. I started watchin' and readin' interviews and findin' out whatever I could 'bout you. I learned yer real personality and b'came yers for ferever."

"You were mine before I even met you," he realized.

"Yeah." I nodded. "I was. I've always been yers. No man on this Earth compares ta you."

"That is probably the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me," he murmured.

"It's true. That night at the con when that crazy bitch..." I stroked his beard. "I would o' shot her in the head and went ta jail fer you if I had to. I would o' died fer you."

Bill sighed, his eyes shining. "Okay, I was wrong. _That's_ the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to me."

My eyebrows furrowed. "Seriously? None o' the women in yer life have said those things?"

"No." He shook his head. "Not like that."

"Then, you were with the wrong women."

"Apparently, I was. It took me a while to find the right one, and she's right here in my arms," Bill vowed, smoothing my hair. 

"What was that ya called it earlier? Fate?"

"Right, fate," he agreed, kissing me softly. "I'm lucky. I know I am."

"No, I'm the lucky one," I insisted, stifling a yawn. "I gotta pee."

"So do I. You go first." He patted my ass.

Grunting, I untangled myself from Bill's grip and sat on the edge of the bed. As I pushed to my feet, I stumbled.

"Told you you wouldn't be able to walk in a straight line," he said, chuckling.

I giggled. "My legs feel like rubber."

Grateful to have the master bedroom and my own bathroom, I staggered into it and shut the door. The last thing I wanted to do was pull on clothes. I was sure Bill felt the same way.

When I emerged, he was waiting. He pecked my cheek on his way by. Smiling, I put the massage oil on the nightstand, turned down the covers, and crawled into bed. He wandered out a minute later and climbed in behind me. Grasping the blanket, I covered us up to our waists.

"You want this light on?" I asked.

"No."

I reached over and clicked off the lava lamp. The room turned pitch black. Bill snuggled up to my backside and closed his arm around me. Clasping his hand, I placed it on my tit and squeezed. He smelled my hair and peppered my head with kisses.

"Night, superhero," he whispered.

"Night, blue eyes," I replied.

He huffed out a laugh at my new nickname for him.

**********

I have no idea how long I was asleep before I was awakened by Bill's soft touch. He was still spooning me, his fingertips grazing my neck and shoulder. He glided them down my side, causing goose pimples to light up my flesh.

I sighed blissfully, alerting him to my consciousness. Pressing his iron-hard cock against my ass, he squeezed a fleshy globe. His lips caressed my ear, the tip of his tongue tracing the outline. Gently biting my earlobe, he tugged. He kissed the skin behind my ear and the back of my neck, his beard brushing my flesh. As he sucked a line down to my shoulder blades, I moaned.

Bill must have been touching me for a while because my inner thighs were slick with arousal. Grabbing his hand as it strayed across my hip, I directed it toward my tits. As he cupped one, he plucked my stiff nipple. In response, I pushed my ass against his cock. Warm pre-cum oozed out of the tip onto my ass cheek.

Hissing, he reached between our bodies, grabbed his shaft and shoved the head of his cock between my upper thighs. His fingers trailed over my hip to my mound, dipping between my legs to feel for moisture. When he found plenty, he groaned. Rubbing over my slit, he distributed my essence between all my folds and circled my clit.

I whimpered. Opening my thighs slightly as his spirals became tighter and faster, I squirmed backward so the head of his cock slipped closer to my opening. He slowly stroked his cock between my thighs, the dampness which had already acquired there coating him.

"You're soaked." Bill's breath ghosted over my spine. 

"Mmmm...I want you."

"That's so fucking _hot_. Turn on your belly and put your hands above your head."

Obeying, I pushed my ass into the air. He moved into position behind me, the tip of his cock at my entrance. Gripping my hips, he sunk into me. I was so wet, he slid all the way in with no problem. 

"Fuck," I mewled, biting my lip.

"Yes, that's what we're about to do," Bill warned. "There will be nothing gentle about this. This time, our goal is to get off. I just wanna make sure I don't hurt you before I really get going."

I grunted my approval. His thrusts started out at a leisurely pace. Once I adjusted to his size, they turned deep and steady. Bending over my backside, he grasped both of my wrists with one hand and pressed them into the bed. I couldn't move much, but I had no desire to. I was being dominated, and I loved it. I showed him how much by releasing deep sighs of pleasure with each drill of his cock. He reciprocated by snarling and biting my neck and shoulders.

Letting go of my hip, Bill reached under my body and squeezed my tits. He twisted my nipples, making me moan into the pillow. Coasting his hand down my stomach, he located my clit and tweaked it.

"Harder," I breathed. "Fuck me harder. Fuck me like ya own me."

"I _do_ fucking own you. You're _mine. _Don't you ever fucking forget that," he growled, his pace quickening. 

"Never," I panted. "I'm yers."

Bill fucked me so hard, his balls slapped against me and our union made sloppy wet sounds. I rocked with him, hungry to reach climax. My inner walls fluttered, and he trembled.

"That's it, baby," Bill husked, licking between my shoulder blades. "Cum for me. Soak my fucking cock."

That was the first time he used that word, and it aroused me immensely. 

"T'gether," I gasped.

"Yes," he lisped, his hold tightening on my wrists. "Together."

Biting down on the back of my neck, he plowed into me even harder. He pinched my clit between his fingers and rubbed, and that was all I needed. I orgasmed with a soft cry, my pussy convulsing around his cock.

"Fuuuck," Bill groaned. 

Twitching violently, he spurted deep inside my chasm. Abandoning my clit, he released my wrists and straightened up.

"Better?" I murmured.

"Fuck yeah," Bill said cheerfully. 

Withdrawing his softening cock from my insides, he smacked my ass. I squeaked, making him chuckle. Our juices drained out of me and onto the bed.

"That's so fucking cute when you do that," he insisted, falling down onto his side. 

Giggling, I collapsed onto my belly. "Next time, smack my ass while we fuck. And pull my hair and choke me, too." 

"I would have done all of that if it wasn't the middle of the night and I could see. It's dark as shit in here."

"I know. I like it like this."

"Vampire," Bill teased, running his hand up and down my back.

"I sorta am," I admitted. "The sun really isn't my friend."

"Well, you sure look like a Goddess when it shines down on you."

"But it burns!" I joked, making him laugh softly. Smiling, I turned toward him. "I would kiss ya if we didn't have mornin' breath."

"Yeah, that's why I fucked you doggy style."

"It was good, too. When do I git ta ride ya?" I asked.

"Whenever you want," Bill replied.

Snuggling up to him, I burrowed my face in his chest and kissed over his damp skin. His whole body tremored against mine. Sighing, he wrapped his arms around me and deposited a smattering of kisses on top of my head. Grinning, I yanked the blanket over us.

As we dozed off in each other's arms, an overwhelming surge of fondness radiated through my chest. There was no denying it anymore. I was head over heels in love with Bill. It was too early to voice my feelings, but I was no longer afraid. I was safe with him. I belonged to him. 

To be continued!


	11. Chapter 11

The sound of murmuring awakened me from my pleasant slumber. Yawning and rubbing my eyes, I groped for Bill. Discovering he wasn't in the bed, I sighed. He had to be somewhere in the apartment talking to Juno. I briefly wondered if she had told him anything embarrassing; she probably had.

Climbing out of bed, I trudged into the bathroom. The muscles in my legs ached and my pussy was sore. That after sex tender feeling was the best. That's how one knows the lovemaking was fantastic. As I plopped down on the toilet, I spotted love bites on my inner thighs and bruises from Bill's hips; more signs the sex was incredible. 

After relieving my full bladder, I wandered over to the sink. Several brands decorated my chest and neck. I was a claimed woman, which I didn't think would happen ever again. Smiling, I brushed my knotty hair, cleaned my teeth, and wiped my face with a hot washcloth.

Returning to my bedroom, I opened a dresser drawer, pulled out a matching black cotton tank top and booty shorts, and slipped them on. I didn't bother to put on a bra or underwear. 

Bill's shirt and socks were draped over the back of my desk chair. I smirked, finding it rather amusing that he was roaming around my apartment without a shirt. I considered Juno's thoughts on the matter; if she was attracted to him or not. She had never expressed interest in him in the past, but she hadn't paid much attention, either.

Opening my bedroom door, I padded down the hallway and into the living room. Bill and Juno were in the kitchen chatting softly. I wasn't sure if they were aware I was up or if they had seen me pass by. 

I had forgotten to plug my phone in the night before. Plucking it from my bag in the armchair, I used the charger on the end table. My phone wasn't completely dead, but it was close. I had social media notifications, but no texts or missed calls.

Scrubbing a hand over my face, I stumbled through the kitchen doorway. Bill was sitting at the table across from Juno. Both of them had mugs of coffee. His nose was buried in an all-in-one puzzle book from the stack I kept next to the wall. His neck was branded in several places, and there were marks on his collar bones and chest I didn't remember leaving. 

The spiritual passion we had engaged in the night before came flooding back. Thinking about his feather touch, his intense stare, his talented mouth, and the way he had swiveled his hips made my body come alive all over again. My pussy clenched, and my nipples hardened instantly.

"Hello, my lover," Bill said casually without looking up from the crossword puzzle he was working on.

"Hey," I croaked. Warmth and fuzziness radiated through my chest like electrical currents, making my heart buzz, and butterflies flapped around in my gut. 

"Samara isn't a morning person," Juno said.

He shrugged. "That's okay. Neither am I, really, but you've been talking my ear off anyway."

Juno laughed and addressed me. "Coffee's fresh."

"Suck up," I muttered.

"I am _not_ sucking up!" Juno protested.

Bill's eyes lifted to hers, his expression sincere. "Yes, you are. You're scared she's still mad about last night." 

I grunted my agreement. 

"Okay, you're right," she admitted. "You're perceptive."

I huffed out a laugh.

"You have no idea," he remarked, his eyes dropping back to the book lying before him.

On my way over to the coffee pot, I stopped next to Bill. Cupping his scruffy cheek, I rubbed it with my thumb and kissed the top of his head. His hair was a wreck. It must have been sticking up in 15 different ways. I combed my fingers through it to try and tame it down. Glancing up at me, he smiled brightly, his blue eyes shining like mirrors.

"You guys are disgustingly cute," Juno commented.

"Shut up," I grumbled, flipping her the bird.

Bill chuckled under his breath and returned to his crossword puzzle.

"Are you still mad at me?" Juno asked, her tone cautious.

"No." I grimaced. "Have ya been tellin' Bill embarrassin' shit?"

He snickered. "Maaaaybe."

"No! I swear!" Juno held up her hands, feigning innocence. "Don't listen to him!"

I crossed my arms, my eyes narrowing. "What've y'all been talkin' 'bout?" 

"Just...stuff," she said, rolling a shoulder forward.

"Mmm, hmm. Sure," I said dryly. "I know ya better than that." 

"Mostly small talk," Bill interjected. "And she's been bragging about how awesome you are, but I already know that. Oh, and she threatened to kill me if I hurt you."

"I knew it!" I exclaimed, pointing at her.

"Damn it, Bill!" Juno squawked.

Ducking as a pen flew his way, his musical laugh echoed off the walls. "What? You think I'm gonna hide shit from her? I'm not."

"Well, fuck," Juno pouted.

"Thank you." Grinning, I bent over and kissed his fuzzy cheek. "I knew I liked ya fer a reason." 

"I don't keep shit from my partner," Bill stated. Turning his head, he snuck a peek at my cleavage. "You smell minty." 

Setting down the pencil in his left hand, he caressed my jaw. I took the opportunity to press a kiss to his lips. As I straightened up, he smiled.

"Mmm, coffee," I said. Savoring his taste, I licked my lips.

"See? Disgustingly cute," Juno repeated. "You guys are an item now? You said partner, Bill."

He stayed mute. Picking up his pencil, he filled in a word on the page. 

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, of course. He stayed the night, didn't he?"

"Bill, I tried to get info out of you earlier, but you wouldn't tell me anything," Juno whined. "You basically ignored me."

He didn't respond.

"Yer probin'. Scorpios hate that shit. They don't like people in their business. He don't know ya like that. He don't trust ya yet. He might not _ever_ trust ya. He ain't gonna tell ya shit 'bout nothin'. Might as well be talkin' to a brick wall," I explained, squeezing his tense shoulder. 

"Yup," Bill agreed. "On the other hand, I trust Samara. I may not have known her for very long, but she's had ample times to spill my business and didn't. People have been all over her social media accounts sticking their nose in our shit, but she didn't say a word. She let _me_ handle everything, and I didn't even have to tell her to do that. It was a decision she made on her own."

"Okay, that's fair," Juno accepted. "I'm sorry."

Bill grunted.

Nodding, I mosied over to the counter. I pulled a mug out of the cabinet and spooned sugar into it. Pouring coffee in, I grabbed the creamer next to the coffee pot and dumped some in my cup. After stirring, I rinsed the spoon and sipped the sweetened liquid.

Sighing with satisfaction, I returned to the table. I sat my coffee down and started to sink into the chair between Bill and Juno, but he gripped my wrist. 

"Oh, no. You come here," he insisted. Guiding me onto his right thigh, he securely closed his arm around my waist.

"Ooh, yes, sir," I said, enjoying his dominance. Wrapping my arm around his backside, I slid my cup closer and rested my head against his shoulder.

Bill's lip quirked, and he returned to his puzzle. He only had one question left.

"Disgustingly adorable," Juno reiterated.

I scowled and rolled my eyes.

"God damn it! I've been staring at this fucking thing for like 5 minutes and can't figure out this fucking word," Bill fussed. His forehead wrinkled, deepening his age lines. Huffing, he gulped down some coffee.

"I dunno how anyone can drink black coffee," I said, shaking my head.

"Well, what do you have in yours?" He grabbed my cup and tasted it, his face twisting in disgust. "Oh, my God! Do you like a little coffee with your creamer and sugar or what???" 

Juno and I busted out laughing. Bill washed away the syrupy taste with his own coffee. 

"Fuck, that was awful, but I still like you anyway." He kissed my temple.

I smiled and sipped from my mug. "Now, 'bout that word. Lemme see." I stared down at the question. _A knife, sword, or spike-shaped weapon designed to fit on the end of the muzzle of a rifle, musket or similar firearm, allowing it to be used as a spear._ The word came to me instantly. "Oh! A bayonet! I'd know that shit anywhere! Merle Dixon had one on his prosthetic!" 

Bill's eyes widened. "Oh, shit! You're right! Thanks, superhero! I don't know how I didn't figure that out. I mean, my dad was a Marine for fuck's sake." He scribbled the word into the blanks. Kissing my forehead, he chuckled. "I feel kinda stupid now." 

"Yer not stupid; far from it, actually. Ya graduated from Yale. Prolly just thinkin' too hard," I pondered.

"Yeah, you're probably right."

"Superhero?" Juno inquired, arching a brow.

"Well, yeah. Samara's my superhero. She _did_ save my life," he pointed out, patting my knee.

I nuzzled his beard with my face, making him smile. "I'd do it again, too."

"That's cute as fuck," Juno gushed.

"Oh, my God," I groaned, blushing. "Stoooop." 

I hid my face in Bill's neck, who smoothed my hair.

"I'm hungry. Wanna go out for breakfast?" he suggested.

"Umm..." I paused, contemplating.

"You're gonna go out all hickeyed up?" Juno teased.

Bill shrugged. "Sure, why not?"

Facing Juno, I sipped my coffee. "I don't give a fuck. Let folks stare. They can kiss my puckered asshole. At least they'll know I b'long to a good lookin' man."

She giggled. "I knew you would say that." 

Bill grinned and rubbed my thigh. "So is that a yes?"

"I'd like ta shower first."

"So would I, but I don't have any clean clothes here or a toothbrush." Brainstorming, he stroked his beard. "Tell you what. I'll go home and clean up while you're showering. I'll text you my address and you can come to my house. We'll go out to eat somewhere, then you can hang out at my house with me."

I sighed forlornly. "I really shouldn't. I got that Bruce Campbell interview I need ta work on fer the magazine, plus yers. I got a deadline ta meet."

"I've got some business to attend to also. Just bring all your stuff," Bill proposed. "You can work on it while I do my thing. I gotta call my manager and straighten my schedule out, and I got some shit from Rob I gotta look over. He emailed me some things last night." Groaning, he pinched the bridge of his nose. "And I have some bills to pay."

"Rob Zombie?" Juno asked.

"Yes," Bill lisped.

"It must be really awesome to work with him. He seems really cool."

"He is awesome to work with. He's a really good dude; one of the nicest people I've ever known."

I chewed my cheek, my eyes flicking back and forth between Juno and Bill. As an empath, I picked up from Bill that he wasn't ready to leave my side. To be honest, I didn't want him to go. If we relocated to his house, Juno wouldn't be there. It would be nice to have some real alone time with him.

"Okay, I'll bring my stuff," I decided, nodding.

"Good." Bill's hold on my waist tightened. "Let's finish our coffee, then I'll get going."

"Okay," I agreed. "Do you have any idea where we're going? Should I dress-"

"Honey, wear whatever you want. You can wear what you have on for all I care. You could go out in public in rags or a trash bag and I wouldn't give a fuck."

Smiling, I rubbed my cheek against his. He chuckled softly.

"That's so sweet," Juno gushed.

Bill and I gave her the side-eye.

"Okay, I get it. No more raving about who cute you are," she said, holding up her hands.

"Thank you," I huffed.

"I'm gonna take a quick shower," Juno announced.

"Save me some water," I said.

"I will." Her chair scraped against the floor as she pushed it back. "See you later, Bill."

"Bye," he said politely. As soon as she left the kitchen and the hallway bathroom door clicked shut, he slid his hand under my booty shorts and caressed my skin. "How's everything feel this morning? Are you sore? I didn't beat you up too much, did I?" His eyes expressed genuine concern.

"I'm a little sore, but I'm fine," I assured, fingering his beard. "I've got bruises on my inner thighs from yer hips."

"I'm sorry, baby," Bill said under his breath.

"Don't be. It was _really_ good. You can leave bruises all ya want. I like it rough."

"I don't wanna hurt you, though."

"But I liked it." 

He lifted his hand to twirl a strand of my hair. "Well, as long as you like it, that's all that matters."

"C'mere. Now that Juno's not in the room, I want a proper kiss."

"Umm, I haven't brushed my-"

"Shut up, Bill."

Yanking his beard, I guided his mouth to mine and kissed him gently. I sucked and nibbled, swiping my tongue over the seam of his lips. Groaning deep in his chest, he opened his mouth and granted me access. I swirled my tongue around his, tasting the rich flavor of coffee. 

Grabbing the back of my neck, he kissed me with enthusiasm. His hand swept over my belly softly, then beelined for my tits. Cupping one, he squeezed.

"Samara..." Bill husked, fingering the hem of my tank top.

"Hmm?"

"You're irresistible."

I smiled coyly. He took control of the kiss, his tongue dancing with mine. I traced the shape of his collarbone, ran my fingers over the veins in his neck, and caressed the curve of his ear. Shivering, he grabbed the back of my neck and kissed me harder.

The squeak of the bathroom faucet bounced off the kitchen walls, then the stream of water as it hit the tub. The curtain pulled open and closed as Juno stepped into the shower, and that was all the encouragement Bill needed to shove his hand under my top. I moaned into his mouth as he pinched and twisted my nipples. Wetness seeped from my pussy lips and pooled into my shorts. 

"Yeah, I know you like it when I do that," he murmured against my lips. 

I opened my eyes to find him staring back at me. My heart skipped a beat as he gently bit my bottom lip and tugged. 

"I wanna be inside you," Bill whispered, his eyes glittering. "How long do we have until she gets out of the shower?"

"Dunno. Maybe 10 - 15 minutes."

"That's plenty of time for a quickie."

"Right here?" I asked.

"Fuck yeah!"

Nodding, I stood up and shimmied out of my booty shorts. Bill unbuckled his belt, undid his jeans, and pushed them and his underwear down his hips. His cock was hard as a rock.

"Sit on my lap and bend over the table," he instructed, grasping his shaft.

I turned my back to him, straddled his thighs so my feet were flat on the floor, and sunk down on his cock all the way to the base. Gasping, I rested my elbows on the puzzle book and leaned over.

"Oh, my Goood," Bill moaned, clutching my hips. "You're so fucking _wet_."

"All cuz o' you," I breathed.

I used my legs to lift my hips and began to bury his cock inside my core. Bill thrust with me, his pelvis meeting mine in perfect harmony. Throwing my hair over my shoulder, he licked and kissed the top of my spine and the back of my neck. One of his hands cherished my bouncing tits. The other snaked between my thighs to stimulate my clit. Because of the angle, his cock grazed my g-spot with every stroke.

"Oh, fuck, this ain't gonna take long," I panted, my pussy walls fluttering.

"Yeah, feels good," he groaned. "I'm right behind you."

I bounced for a few minutes, enjoying Bill's teasing touch and the feel of his cock as it stretched my insides. A wave of warmth slowly rose up from my clit, climbed up my belly and radiated through my chest. That same heat flooded my entire body, and all my muscles began to tremble. Energy washed over me, and I fell apart. My clit pulsed and my pussy contracted at the same time. It was like a pleasure bomb exploded deep inside me. 

"Oh!" I cried, my release soaking Bill's cock. 

"Yeah, baby. Keep going," he urged, gnawing on my shoulder.

Aware he was right on the brink of orgasm, I tried my best to keep bucking. Grabbing my hips as they faltered, he helped me along. As he swelled inside me, he hissed. His body stiffened, his cock throbbed, and a strangled moan escaped him as his seed filled my chasm. 

Once his climax had subsided, his hips stilled. Breathing heavily, I flopped onto the table. My entire body had turned into jello.

"Wow, that was one of the best quickies I've ever had," Bill marveled, kissing over my backside.

"Me, too. I squirted and had a clitoral orgasm at the same time. That's some next-level shit."

"That's what I was hoping for."

The water in the bathroom shut off.

"Oh, shit!" I exclaimed. "Juno!"

"Fuck," Bill growled.

"This is gonna be messy," I warned.

Raising off of Bill's softening cock, my pussy drained onto his lap. As I stood, I wobbled, making him laugh. He slapped my ass hard, causing me to stumble. He gripped my hips to steady me. Giggling, I scrambled for some paper towels and handed them to him so he could clean his lap. Grabbing my booty shorts, I tugged them on and straightened my top.

Bill wiped his lap and tossed the paper towels into the trash. Yanking up his drawers and jeans, he fastened them and buckled his belt. "Come here," he demanded. 

Facing him, I sat on his lap and wrapped my arms around his neck. He closed his arms around my waist and rubbed my back. We kissed intimately, our tongues twisting together. He was a little sweaty, but so was I. I didn't mind. I would have consumed his sweat if he let me.

Breaking the kiss as Juno opened the bathroom door, I hopped off Bill's lap, snatched our coffee mugs and placed them in the sink. She peeked around the corner in her robe just as I stepped behind Bill and rested my hand on his shoulders.

"All done," Juno announced, her eyes shifting to Bill. "You're still here?"

"We just finished up." I jutted my chin towards the mugs in the sink.

Bill snickered. Wiping perspiration from his forehead, he pushed his hand through his damp hair.

"Oh, my God!" Juno's eyes widened. "You guys just fucked, didn't you?! You both have a sheen of sweat on your skin!"

Bill shrugged. "I don't kiss and tell."

"I dunno what yer talkin' 'bout," I said nonchalantly.

"Liars! Where did you guys fuck so I know where _not_ to sit???"

We stayed mute.

"Oh, my God! That chair is getting bleached!" Juno screeched. 

She darted down the hallway into her bedroom and slammed the door. Bill and I cracked up. My stomach cramped from laughing so hard. It took us a minute to catch our breath.

"That was hilarious," Bill said.

"That's what she gits fer tryin' ta git info that ain't her business."

"Yeah, that was pretty good revenge. Maybe she'll learn to keep her mouth shut."

"Don't count on it." Giggling, I kissed the top of his head.

"You know, you hit the nail on the head with her. You said she was nice but was nosy and had a big fucking mouth."

"You'll git used ta her. You'll even grow ta love her." I patted his shoulder.

"Yeah, I guess." Bill eyed me up like a hungry wolf as I moved out from behind him. "I should get my shirt and socks on so I can go and you can shower."

His desirous gaze reminded me of my earlier thoughts about whether or not Juno might be attracted to him. "Was Juno checkin' you out?" I blurted. "You're sitting around without a shirt."

"Not that I noticed, but I wasn't paying attention. I was too engrossed in that damn word search puzzle. Why? Would you be jealous if she was?"

"Well, I mean..." I clicked my tongue. "It's normal fer folks ta look at someone who's attractive, but yeah. It would bother me a lil bit since we're so close. Yer mine." 

Bill snickered and closed the all-in-one puzzle book. He set it in its rightful spot and pushed to his feet. "Come on, superhero. Walk with me to your bedroom."

"Okay."

He wrapped me in an affectionate embrace and kissed my forehead. "And don't worry about if Juno is attracted to me or not. It's not like she's allowed to touch me. You're the only one who's allowed to do that."

"Right, I know." 

I clasped his hand, and we strolled down the hallway and into my bedroom.

\-------------------

To be continued!


End file.
